When the Rain Began to Fall
by Love to be Curious
Summary: The inbetween scenes from Dead Man's Chest and At World's End. Beach scene rated M for obvious reasons... REVIEWS APPRECIATED. FINISHED.
1. Chapter 1: The Ruins

[My view on the moments before Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest started.Next chapter will be Will's activites before he was arrested. Do tell if you would like me to carry this through the movie. Any reviews are appreciated! Thanks!

Droplets of rain pitter-pattered against the guests and squeals from women emerged as their husbands ushered them beneath the church's edifice. Elizabeth Swann shoved through them, her relatives and friend attempting to convince her to take shelter.

No, she couldn't turn back now.

The musicians trotted past her, leaving their melodies to melt in the inclement weather. The young woman shuffled down the aisle, tears egressing from her eyes, and her slender fingers clutching the wilting bouquet of white flowers. Gazing through the blinding rain and salty tears, Elizabeth witnessed a mass of vessels coasting into Port Royal, longboats stroking toward the shore. Her father's shore. Her shore. Her wedding. It wasn't raining on her wedding. It wasn't ruining her and Will's day. The moist leaves sagged in her grip, clinging to her paling skin as the rain pelted her vibrant embroidered gold gown. The rain intensified, whapping the droplets against her face as she approached the stone paved altar. Her hand grazed the altar's flowered structure, and she looked to the two elegant poles, where decorations flapped hither and thither.

He wasn't coming. He left her to witness the ruin of their wedding day. But, he had to have a reason... A logical explanation for his disappearance. The waves of her heart sloshed in anxiety and disappointment as she crumpled to the wet grasses, her voluminous golden dress shrouding her knees and the puffy damp layers plastering to her bent legs. The constricting corset that forced her to whine and complain only hours before now seemed such a meager trifle, and she did not bother to wipe away her now unfurled tresses as they dangled and swayed in the wind. She desired... So much as _yearned_ to turn back this day. Elizabeth cast her gaze to the gray and hazy sky that whirled a forewarning that the world was prepared to tarnish her and Will's marital felicity.

"Why? Why? Why?" she murmured repeatedly until it stopped being a question. Where was the governor to save her? This wasn't happening. This couldn't destroy everything she and Will had worked for. Everything that she and Will had lived for. The moisture finally seeped through the abundant fine coats of her dress and gradually soaked her bones. Sniffling, her tears suddenly stopped streaming, her ears were tortured as chairs cracked in collapse, and she didn't flinch as music whipped past her face. She swore her name was cried, a piercing cry that could shatter her soul, bursting from every fiber of a man's body and thrust from his fixed jaw. Elizabeth turned her head and gazed over her shoulder to meet the eyes of a white-wigged man.

Although she did not recall his prestigious name, the woman recognized the man's short figure and malicious face that joyously bore a grin at her misery. She had met him in England shortly before their departure, and in her gut as ache swelled in her breast, she knew he caused this wretched fortune. Elizabeth rapidly raised, her white elongated train dragging behind her as she lifted the corners to ascend the stone steps. She breezed past the white-wigged man, ignoring the concern of the guests who crowded in the hallways like men around a boxing match. Her loving fiancé strode toward the woman, menacing and familiar red coats surrounding him. Her eyes locked onto the manacles that bound his wrists, and she quickly touched his hands.

"Will!" she yelped gently, "Why is this happening?"


	2. Chapter 2: The Arrest of William Turner

William Turner straightened his black tricorne hat, glancing to his buckle shoes and white tights. Well, once they were married he would wear boots. How Elizabeth had teased him and told him how she loved the boots that he wore on rare occasions. That was all she needed, she had once said, but he had insisted that the black shoes did not appear appropriately with the ensemble that she had helped him choose for their vows.

_"That is all I want to see you in during our wedding night." Elizabeth had whispered keenly in his ear during one of their fencing sessions. _

_ He had chuckled in response, looping his arm around her waist and pulling her lips to his own. _

_ "I am absolutely serious." _

_ Once again, Will had laughed at her provocative comments, contemplating the scandalous nature of the conversation. He resisted the temptation to answer saucily, realizing it would only induce more passionate fire between them. _

He paced the blacksmith shop a few times and then strode over to his small bedchamber, yanking a dark blue-black jacket out of his closet and fingering the gold trim before slipping it over his arms. Checking the looking glass once more as the clock tolled resonantly, Will abruptly heard the crashing sound of his door and the rattle of irons. The man spun around, his hand in the process of grasping a recently constructed saber when he recognized the soldier's blood-red colors. Replacing the sword, Will stalked toward them in a nervous manner.

"Has something happened to Elizabeth?"

The soldiers delivered no answer and their countenances remained solemn and utterly blank as the manacles clanged together. He considered reaching for a sword once more, but realized it would be futile.

With the shackles clinking at his waist, the lieutenant announced in a clipped accent, "Mister William Turner, you are under arrest."

"What am I charged with?" Two soldiers who were previously positioned on each side of the high ranking officer gripped his arms and the lieutenant yanked his hands forward. Not opposing the arrest, Will glanced to each of their faces as the shackles were locked securely. What had he done? The man knew that if he even attempted to escape their grip, he could immediately face further charges. Will repeated the question, but it was to no avail. "No!" he shouted as he was lugged out of the shop and into the pouring streets of Port Royal. He was shoved into a carriage with a soldier seated on either side, and he gazed past the men and out the window, his eyebrows furrowing as citizens scurried into their homes. Who did this? And what for? Although he asked himself these questions, he could not help but return to thoughts of the impending ceremony. He squinted and leaned toward the window, expecting the prison to soon come into view, but they were headed in the opposite direction; they were traveling toward the wind swept church.

Will was thrust from the carriage, but he held his head high, clenching his fists in frustration as he followed multiple soldiers and the lieutenant through the dank corridors. His eyes widened as his lovely fiancé galloped toward him, her eyes absorbed in distress. Her hair had lost its volume entirely, and her cheeks were streaked with stains caused by his disappearance, but she still looked gorgeous. Will then stared at the background which was gloriously decorated in sweet, but now sulking, flowers, and the chairs creaked in the breeze. Her hands crawled up his jacket and gripped his lapels, sending his mind in a flurry of remorse for missing _their_ day.

"Will!" she had called distraughtly. "Why is this happening?"

"I don't know." he answered placidly, gazing up and down at her dress while his eyes divulged every aching emotion. "You look beautiful." Elizabeth's lips did not part as she smiled and responded, and he felt her hands slide down his arms, the pair almost in an embrace. Will glanced to the revolting man who turned away from the wedding's extravagancy with a cloak draped about his shoulders. Will squeezed Elizabeth's hands twice and their eyes met in a knowing glance. _It is not over. _


	3. Chapter 3: The Prison

(Hoping for more reviews, but for now I serve my one reviewer smile. Here is a scene of my own creation that happens promptly after the conversation between Will, Elizabeth, Lord Beckett, and Governor Swann. This is not quite as detailed as the first/second chapter, due to the nature of actual conversation instead of internal turmoil and such. I have decided to end every chapter with the first line of a scene in Dead Man's Chest, seeing as we already knows what happens. I will also alternate between the point of views of Elizabeth and Will. This has a little Elizabeth POV, but mostly Will. Occasionally I will join the two.)

Governor Weatherby Swann followed the red coats down the corridors, but was promptly halted upon reaching the hectic streets, now alive with scattered voices and giddy children. Although the soldiers crossed their long axes for the second time to block him from rendezvousing with the convicts, the political figure still stepped forward, shouting to a familiar soldier, who he had directed long before Lord Beckett had arrived.

"Please, do what you can for my daughter and the boy."

The couple's necks snapped as they awkwardly spun around to the voice. Will sighed and stared at the irons, shaking his head at being called a "boy" yet another time. He wondered if he were ever to be called a man.

"Father, what can anyone do for us?" Elizabeth snarled bitterly, although she immediately regretted her sharp tongue and added softly, "We are to be locked in a cell."

"At least employ a vacant one." Governor Swann replied helplessly, his eyes welling with remorse over the situation.

"I will do what I can, Governor." The soldier finally replied as the innocent pair climbed into separate carriages.

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Indeed, Weatherby's request aided in obtaining an entirely unoccupied chamber for Will and Elizabeth, and after removing the manacles, the two were left alone except for a single guard who stood near the staircase. For a moment, the pair just gazed at one another until Elizabeth finally spoke, stepping into her fiancé's arms.

Her voice was ragged as she clutched onto his arms. "Will, how could this happen? My father granted you clemency." She wrapped her hands around his waist, seeking comfort, and bumped her forehead against his lapels in frustration.

"Unfortunately," Will answered, stroking her blonde damp strands, "clemency only lessens the penalty of the crime, Elizabeth. It does not forgive it entirely." It was a grave statement that neither had considered during their year of amorous bliss. "Lord Beckett has every right to arrest us because he is under a higher power."

Elizabeth briefly wondered how Will had come by this information, and she glanced at his stern expression, loathing the professional tone he had spoken in. The woman gently tugged out of his grasp and collapsed on the wooden bench, attempting to somewhat straighten her lop-sided hair. "Why do you think he did this now on _our_ wedding day?"

Will began to pace erratically, occasionally brushing against Elizabeth's bulbous flared skirt. "He must desire something." In fact, Mr. Turner had no idea what Lord Cutler Beckett could crave for from an apprentice blacksmith and a governor's daughter, but he was aware that no ruler, purely evil or not, would abruptly decide to induce an execution. As his beloved sat in silence, leaning against the stone wall and writhing her hands, Will padded across the slotted wall, ignoring his fellow prisoners who hollered for attention.

Captain Jack Sparrow. The deceased Captain Barbossa. Cursed pirates and Aztec gold. Aztec Gold. No, this lord could not possibly yearn for cursed pieces of treasure, could he? But the _Black Pearl..._ The name was suddenly spread out before him, as if in neon letters, and he drummed his fingers on one of the steel bars. It was the fastest ship in Caribbean, and it was the only possession Jack truly seemed to value with his life. That damn vessel had, for the second time, suctioned his and Elizabeth's lives into Captain Sparrow's bewildering ploys.

"The _Pearl_." The pair announced the word in unison, their thoughts perfectly in line.

Elizabeth clarified their presumption. "He must desire the _Black Pearl _under his possession."

Will nodded as the woman lifted her dainty feet, swiveled to where they were propped up on the bench, and stretched out her long legs. She suddenly trembled, and her countenance turned an appalling shade, her eyes bulging with frightening thoughts. He whispered her name tenderly and began to remove his jacket, but she protested, maintaining wavering eye contact.

"No, there is no need. I'm not cold."

He tilted his head and crossed over to her side. "Are you all right?"

"I do not want to lose you, Will."

"Who says you are losing me?" He knelt next to his lady, placing his hands across her lap quizzically. As she spoke, he could not help but admire every contour of her lovely face and adore those acute brown eyes.

She gripped his hands, pulsing them in an undulating rhythm. "We are facing the hangman's noose. We could both perish, and I do not want either of us leave this earth without saying our vows."

Her voice creaked in extreme anxiety, and although Will had come to an understanding of Elizabeth's mounting desire to be with him beyond verbal communication, he had not realized how much the actual marriage meant to her. "Elizabeth... I promise-"

He was cut off by the guard, who was jamming a key into the cell. "Lord Beckett requests your presence in his office."

Will stood back up with Elizabeth's fingers interlaced with his own, and before he could flee her eyesight, the woman yanked him into her grasp, rose on her tip-toes, and swathed herself in his arms. She tenderly kissed him, and he returned the fervor, draping his arms around her waist and upper back. If only they could stay this way! And if only this kiss was sealing their vows to one another.

"Mr. Turner, Lord Beckett awaits."

Parting from the ardent embrace, manacles were rapidly attached to his wrists, and he glanced over his shoulders, murmuring, "I will return." She bit her lip as her eyelashes fluttered past the reoccurring tears. As he ascended the staircase with the red-coat in the lead, Will Turner cast a final glance to his bride, who plopped down upon the bench, wiping her face in agitation.

He strode through the city with his head held high, disregarding the cynical remarks he received from regular customers. They must know that he had done nothing wrong. How could they believe he was a villainous criminal? Will Turner had long ago acknowledged that he was constantly called honest and noble for a reason, although he never gloated about his impeccable loyalty and strength in mind and body. But now, with women scowling at the well-dressed prisoner, he pondered the possibility of losing everything he possessed if the confrontation resulted in his and Elizabeth's freedom or even a milder sentence.

The guard led Will into an elaborate edifice, adorned with gold encrusted mirrors and the finest wood in Port Royal. His buckle shoes clipped together as he marched up the glimmering staircase, gazing at the detailed portraits of country and city life. Two doors were swung open and absorbing a rigid and vexed attitude, Will Turner entered Lord Beckett's office accompanied by the guard.

As Will assessed the mural that was in process, the soldier addressed the short wigged man in utter obedience. "Lord Beckett. The prisoner as ordered, Sir."


	4. Chapter 4: Destined to Leave Her Behind

(Ah yes, Elizabeth has a hunch now... She vaguely knows more than the audience believed.)

The scraggily human beings taunted her, murmuring suggestive comments to their comrades and constantly eyeing Elizabeth's pretty countenance and ample cleavage as she paced the small cell, her mind whirling.

"Seems yer husband ain't coming back."

She glowered at the man, whipping around to the prisoners with her teeth bared. This stupid man had no right to speak to her. "Will is coming back, and he isn't my husband... Yet."

"Then why waste yer time with 'im? Come over here, and I'll show ya a good time, lass. Ain't that right boys?" They chortled, chucking one another in the shoulder as Elizabeth retreated to the opposite side with a disgusted look upon her face. "So what are you in for, girl? Caught snogging with 'im in town? I hear that ain't proper."

Elizabeth scowled for the second time, but she would not allow the revolting human being to continue with innuendos that her father would consider too harsh for a lady's ears. This was not to say Elizabeth objected due to being a prude, she merely protested due to the discourse concerning her. With a slightly menacing tinge to her tone, Elizabeth answered, "We helped Jack Sparrow escape."

"You mean he's still alive?" Another man responded, his crimped beard waggling as he spoke. "What do ya reckon they want 'im fer now?"

The original offender shouted, "The _Black Pearl_ a' course!"

Elizabeth now became a bystander of these felons, who prattled on about Captain Jack's infamous history. For some reason, she did not pull herself away from the men, but took a few steps forward as the crimped beard spoke again.

"You sure he ain't got another debt to pay? Won't Ol' Hobb be calling upon 'im soon?" He laughed at the grave that Jack Sparrow had burrowed for himself.

"Aye, that be true, Gret."

Gret nodded, falling back onto the bench and flexing his hands. "Jack Sparrow's always got a debt, don't he? Perhaps this Beckett fellow readied yet another one fer 'im."

"What debt?" Elizabeth asked, now gripping the bars. Even though she was not entirely certain, she realized that this venture was not about the _Black Pearl_ at all. The rotting humans disregarded her presence, too caught up in the legends and myths surrounding various pirates. She plunked onto the bench, fiddling with the extravagant beads that now dangled by a few threads. The woman clicked her heels together and gazed around the cell, contemplating the disaster that had been thrust upon her. Elizabeth closed her eyes, imagining that, instead, she was lounging in a honeymoon suite overlooking the expansive ocean, and Will was lying behind her, whispering delectable secrets in her ear. She could not help expressing a single exultant sigh, but the smell of a man's filthy hands made her leap to her feet. She slapped him away, and the criminals only chuckled to themselves, continuing their conversation as Elizabeth surrendered to the dank conditions.

No, she would never relish in the pleasures of a wedding ritual unless Will miraculously bargained a pardon for the pair. Elizabeth rubbed her temples as more thoughts swirled and images of the hangman's noose slid into view. If Lord Beckett did not formulate any terms for their release, Elizabeth swore to herself that she would weasel her way out of prison. The woman abruptly stepped up on the bench, balanced for a moment, and then clasped the bars of the window above her. She stared into the harbor, where magnificent vessels coasted through the Port Royal's waters, their sails flapping in the gusts of wind. Elizabeth wiggled the bars, finding them ever so slightly loose and she smugly smiled. Yes, this could definitely aid in their escape if it came to that, but she _would_ need to remove the beautiful gown if she were to slip through the opening. The woman carefully stepped back on solid ground, the beat of drums echoing in her mind. The horrid rhythm of drums that signified death. She shook herself of the vision and nearly crawled on her knees when Will appeared, his attire built for travel. Elizabeth heard not what her father or Carruthers said; instead, she entwined her hands through the thick bars and cast an eager glance at Will's boots.

"Will..." she squealed softly and voiced the first question that popped in her mind, "What did he want?"

"Jack's compass." Will answered placidly, and Elizabeth immediately realized that he had already accepted the mission.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she realized her assumption was correct. This lord wasn't after the _Black Pearl_ at all. She stared at the baldric that was slung at Will's hip, her eyes widening as she returned her gaze to his fuzzy face. So now, would she be left on her own? In this cell with putrid men who wreaked of liquor and dirt?

Shoving the lingering questions aside, Elizabeth repeated, "Jack's compass. What does Beckett want with that?"


	5. Chapter 5: Agendas

(OT: My least favorite chapter so far. I skipped over quite a bit of the cannibal island in-between scenes, due to the fact that I don't think there are that many and I was finding it difficult to write about it. So there is only a little bit of Will's P.O.V. and definately not worthy of my previous ones in my opinion. Quite a bit of Elizabeth in this one. But the next chapter will entail: the ride to Tia Dalma's shack (Will), The Tortuga signals and whenever Elizabeth finds Norrington/Jack, and more than likely a conversation between Bootstrap and Will, or just Will's reflections on Bootstrap. These are just the hardest bits to write since they, for the most part, do show the progression of these scenes in the movie. All right, I will stop babbling. Enjoy!)

Elizabeth clambered into the sophisticated carriage, her teeth gleaming as her father clicked the door shut. She chewed on her lip as she contemplated her father's words. Will _was_ completely reliable. He would return, but now, he would arrive to find her gone...To find that his beloved coasted to England to hide like a coward. She slammed her head against the velvet seats as Governor Swann slapped the reins across the equestrian's back, initiating movement. Within a few minutes, Elizabeth reached for the square-cut door, but was thrown back against the narrow wall when the carriage halted abruptly. She peered through the window cautiously, gazing into dim settings, a few lights illuminating the harbor.

"Evening, Governor." She heard the sound of Mercer's intimidating tone and scrambled to find the latch on the opposite side. "Shame, huh? He was carryin' this. It's a letter to the King. It's from you."

She glanced at the lifeless body that lay in a crumpled position on the dirt ground as she hunkered behind boxes of cargo. Elizabeth swiveled around to witness a mass of horses marching toward the scene. "_Father_..." she whispered feebly. She could do nothing for him, unless she intended on perishing at sunrise. The woman lifted her intricately constructed skirt as high as possible, revealing her abundant undergarments as she stepped on board a baby blue sloop. Plastering herself against the vessel's cabin, she watched her father constricted by iron shackles step into a carriage, his eyes searching for signs of his daughter. She sighed as the troops galloped into the distance. Elizabeth hesitantly trod toward the edge, but as she lifted one leg to step onto the docks, a sailor caught her arm.

"'ey, you! Girl! What are you doin' aboard this ship?"

"My apologies, Sir. I needed cover from my...Lady-maid. Please forgive me." She smiled slightly, shrugging her shoulders in hopeful forgiveness.

The sailor's eyebrow arched as he released her arm. "Next time I catch you on a vessel that don't belong to you I'll turn you into the EITC, I will."

She thanked him profusely and then scurried toward the East India Trading Company's office, picking her way through the corridors and trotting up the staircase with light footsteps. Elizabeth rapidly discovered the location of Lord Beckett's study and immediately rifled through his desk drawers, scouring the office for an item to bargain her freedom with. Yanking open the second drawer, a pistol ricocheted from the blow, clattering against the sides. She dipped the weapon inside of her bodice so that she could employ both hands, but the clipping of heels forewarned her of a poignant presence approaching. Finally confiscating the pardon, she surveyed the quarters, and after removing the pistol, Elizabeth slid into the shadows. Although the corset only allowed short breaths, she managed to breathe quietly. The man entered, his ebony vest dazzling in the moonlight. He gently set down the lantern and creaked open the little EITC logo container. She glided forward; perhaps she could slip out the door...

"No doubt you've discovered that loyalty is no longer the currency of the realm, as your father believes."

The woman did not quake as she rotated around and slithered forward, her hands behind her back, gripping the pistol and the pardon. "Then what is?" She asked smugly, already aware of the answer.

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Will Turner was heaved into the gritty bone cage, joining Gibbs and the crew with his face fixed in a grimace. He could not believe that Jack would do this; no matter what grounds their friendship stood on, no logical person would allow their acquaintance to succumb to this experience. The crew remained silent as two tribe members with sticks protruding from their nostrils lowered the cage near the other one, their eyes occasionally glancing to the plunging depth beneath them.

"How long will we remain here?" Will asked as he clasped the somewhat clammy structure.

"Until they are drawn by voracious hunger." Gibbs quickly replied, after carefully stepping on the bone lining to sidle beside Will. "They're cannibals, Will."

Mr. Turner sighed, eyeing the cliffs on either side. "Why would he do this to us? If Jack is their chief..." A plan was already formulating in his mind. _Swing, swing, swing_.

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Miss Swann scurried aboard a glorious merchant galleon, her heart thudding as the sun began to rise above the horizon, slowly shrouding the vessel. The cabin door was slung open and no one was in visible as she crept into the chamber. Elizabeth tenderly closed the door, knelt down, and sifted through an engraved chest. The woman detected pieces of a possible wardrobe and yanked stitched brown breeches, a gray vest, and a loose v-neck blouse from the chest. Shifting to a standing position, Elizabeth lifted the gown above her head. She then began to step out of her white fluffy bloomers and removed the knee-high stockings. Awkwardly twisting her arms, Elizabeth unfastened the corset, wrenching the blasted contraption off her chest. The woman stripped off the last of her undergarments and snatched the blouse, sliding it over her head and proceeding with the remaining pieces of clothing. After pinning her hair and sticking a straw hat on her head, she vibrated in celebration, enjoying the liberation from the sweat that trickled down her thighs when she wore those laden layers of clothing. Oh! It felt wonderful to be able to inhale a deep cleansing breath.

She slipped out the cabin door for a second time with her lady-like attire draped over her arm. The sun had initiated the strike of seven o'clock, and she strode to the railing of the ship and promptly released the mound of brilliant white underwear, giggling as it descended into the sea. If only she could see the face of the sailor or child who was bound to run across them! She then hoisted the golden gown into the light. What a pity to waste such a lovely article of clothing. Her father had repeatedly commented on the beauty; her father... She wondered what Lord Beckett had thrown toward him. The sound of footsteps forced her to inch it over the edge, not quite ready to let it go. Then, the footsteps grew louder, and she quickly chucked it behind a few boxes, slinging her arms across the railing as if it were a normal occurrence.

The man gazed at Elizabeth and then disregarded her presence, assuming, as she hoped, that she was a male sailor. The Edinburgh Trader's crew soon emerged from below, their expression prepared for a day of smooth sailing. The woman was quickly given a task, and she received it amiably, nodding to the quartermaster before slathering the railing with a strange substance. She chortled to herself as men feuded over her wedding dress, claiming that it belonged to a spirit. The silly minds of sailors. And if they knew that a woman was aboard, she would be cast into the sea immediately!

"Oh, and uh... She's probably naked." The captain advised, and Elizabeth dropped the brush into the tin can, her mind laughing at the notion. She followed the other men, mockingly scouring the ship for none other than herself.


	6. Chapter 6: The Murky Past

(OT: This is all Will. The next will be all Elizabeth's P.O.V. I decided that in this one and the next, I wanted to include certain points that I created. I'm not sure about the upcoming chapters, although I do know Will and Bootstrap will have a conversation about Mrs.Turner and Elizabeth (after all, in the third movie, Bootstrap_ did_ say that Will spoke of Elizabeth). I also think it will strengthen their relationship in my eyes. Anywho, enjoy and the next chapters will hopefully be posted soon!)

Will's arms draped across his knees, exhausted from the winding journey. He dipped one hand in the murky river and slathered the droplets on his neck, refreshed by the cool temperature. He considered removing his black leather jacket that clung to his skin, but thought better of his narrow confinement. He glanced to Gibbs as the path thickened, the elderly trees reaching for their heads and the twisted roots screeching for the distant fresh water. The man squinted as the surroundings became darker, and when he gazed into the forest, flashes of yellow eyes appeared. They were clearly illuminated by lanterns, and they seemed to slither in rhythm with the longboat's movement.

Will then stared at the proud navy-blue coated captain whose foot was propped up on the bow of the boat. His shoulders were rolled back, his body was completely erect, and his colorful beads glittered in the secreted light. Shooing a cluster of flies with the wave of his hand, Will leaned forward at a revelation. Jack did not wear his weathered leather tricorne hat. The captain... Without _his _hat? Something was definitely and terribly amiss. Sparrow apparently sensed Will's perpetual gaze, for his head swiveled around curiously. The man's eyes darted from side-to-side, his lips twitched in furious agitation, and he wiped his hand down his frayed whiskers before spinning back around. Will straightened up and he suddenly recollected Jack's odd inquiry.

_"How much do you know about Davy Jones?" He had asked ever so cautiously, displaying the drawing of the key. _

_"Not much." Will had replied, shrugging his shoulders at the notion. _

Not much!

Now he was wary. At that moment, William had only thought of his beloved, _his _Elizabeth, who was imprisoned by Lord Beckett. He needed to save his damsel and then wed her! Now he knew how foolish he was to disregard the weight of Jack Sparrow's words. There was always a submerged message bloating behind his speech, but he was too absorbed in rescuing Elizabeth. Will cursed himself and the pirate captain; he was once again surpassed by his naivety. Ah! And now, where was Jack leading him? Was he already too deep to crawl from the abyss of Jack Sparrow's schemes? _Oh yes_, Mr. Turner thought as he glanced at his fellow mates and the peculiar forest, _he was in far far too deep_.

Will turned to Gibbs, realizing the value of his stories, and asked in a low rumble, "Who exactly are we visiting?"

"Tia Dalma."

It was the shortest response he had ever received from the first mate. "And what are Jack's relations to her?"

"Not much is known about the sea-witch by my 'count. Jack met 'er when he first had the _Pearl_ raised from the depths."

No story? No estranged version of Jack's confessions? He immediately pursued the topic. "Sea witch... You mean sorcery?"

"She knows the way of the sailors and their travels..." Gibbs nervously yanked the leather canteen off his belt and swigged a few drinks, his own eyes busily sliding from one corner to the next.

Will allowed his eyes to rest on Pintel, waiting to see if he was aware of more legends about the woman. The bald pirate shrugged, and as Will nudged the former boatswain a second time, Mr. Gibb's eyes abruptly divulged with discretion. He clearly did not wish to speak of the woman any further. For a few minutes, the crew observed their new surroundings as African men and women who congregated on the banks of the river, others dangling in trees with their unwavering eyes solely on the captain.

"And these people? Does Jack know them?"

Mr. Gibbs brightened; Will could tell the reliable man could easily respond with a sufficient story. "Ya see, Will, thirteen years ago Jack broke his alliance with society when he freed African slaves from Beckett's lot." Will's eyes widened. "He managed to transport the natives to cover before the lord could snatch them into slavery, but soon afterwards, he lost the _Wicked Wench _to the very same man."

This unfamiliar title had a foreboding mood as he inquired, "The _Wicked Wench_?"

Gibbs nodded as he swigged yet another drink. "Aye, the _Black Pearl's_ name... Before it was lugged out of the depths."

Will eyed the spectators, listening to their hissing admiration of the pirate. There was clearly more to the story, but Tia Dalma's rickety shack, which was barely above sea-level, came into view, subduing the chatter. So Jack rescued them. Perhaps this was a cause worth fighting for...Especially if it saved Elizabeth.

"And..." he trailed off, fromed the inquiry a second time in his mind and asked, "Why is Jack afraid of the open ocean?"


	7. Chapter 7: The World's Consequences

(OT: Ah, a long one for Elizabeth. She comes much easier for some reason. I suppose since it is exposed that she has more of that yearning for Will and her to be married, but don't get me wrong, this chapter is not entirely about that. It is just the underlying occassional popping up tone. Haha, well William is next. Sorry for so many italized words. I felt escpcially italisized apparently heeh. Anywho, enjoy! And review dearies! However conceited this might sound, I love encouragement!)

The young woman drooped the black cap over her eyes as she flung her newly braided sandy locks over her shoulder, soaking in the rich atmosphere. Raucous laughter emerged from the tavern, and men and women paraded in all their glory, on horseback or on top of one another. She stepped over a few drunken fools, scoffing in disgust, and stepped into Tortuga's finest establishment that stood in heaps of rich spices, hideous morals, and of course, Captain Sparrow.

Although she realized that Will had already traveled this way, she knew that the officials would never track her to the fanatical city. Elizabeth also realized that the captain must pass through Tortuga at one point or another, and as soon as the _Edinburgh Trader _had made port, she discovered Jack's blatant trail. After realizing how improper it would seem to order water, she seized a bottle of rum and marched up the staircase, hoping to gain a better vantage point.

She chugged the drink fairly quickly, jesting with other males and using a faux gruff undertone. Two heavily-powdered women sidled alongside Elizabeth at one point, offering proposals for the night. She immediately wished to escape their grips upon her arms, her eyes flitting in fear of what could come of the encounter.

A heavy-set man interrupted their conversation, patting Elizabeth on the back and tugging on one of the women's blue floral skirt. "Easy ladies, the lad hasn't even got his whiskers! Why don't ya approach 'im in a bit; once 'e's got a few drinks in 'im, ey?"

Elizabeth scrunched up her nose. "I can handle my own affairs, thank you." She replied, swinging an arm around both ladies shoulders and escorting them away from the throng. "Ladies, my true apologies, but I will have to take a rain-check."

"You so sure, dearest? We could make it worth your while." The blonde woman batted her eyes as she said this, and the red-headed girl grinned at Elizabeth's sweet tone. Both women tugged on the lining of Elizabeth's jacket and fingered her concealed blade.

She slipped out of their grasp as kindly as possible and replied, "Yes, I am absolutely certain. I am actually searching for someone."

"Is that so?" The red-headed spoke up with her eyebrows rising. "We know the entire town, darling. Who are you lookin' for?"

"Jack Sparrow." She replied nonchalantly, hoping the strumpets could enlighten her of the pirate's recent travels.

Both the women's eyes narrowed in obvious rivalry. "We 'aven't seen him for quite some time, isn't that so, Giselle?"

Giselle gritted her teeth and then curled her lips. "Oh yes, but would you be a darling and give him a message?"

Elizabeth suddenly felt awkward and terrified of what was to come. Giselle lunged for the disguised woman's cheek, but Elizabeth shielded herself and squealed, "Wait!"

Unexpectedly, Giselle withdrew her hand and asked irately, "Why should I wait?"

"My fiancé..." she managed to speak softly, opening her eyes and praying to God that she would be not exposed by these loose ladies. "Will Turner? I believe he came here looking for Jack..."

"Your fiancé?" The red-head asked, scrutinizing the lad with a fresh curiosity. "You're a woman?"

Elizabeth nodded warily, lifting her hat slightly.

"Will Turner, was it?" Giselle questioned with her eyebrows arched; she clearly recognized the name. The concubine swiveled to the red-head and lowered her tone. "Is he the handsome bloke that entered Tortuga a fortnight or so past, Scarlet?"

Elizabeth eyed the odd pair, noting Giselle's light airy tone to the word "handsome". She remained composed, but glanced about the chamber to check for those who might be aware of Jack's location.

"Did we slap 'im?" Scarlet inquired, her lips shaped in an upside down U in disappointment.

"I think we did." At the exact same time, Scarlet and Giselle whipped back around. "Our apologies, Miss, but we truly 'aven't seen Mr. Sparrow in over a month."

"A month?" Elizabeth clarified.

"Yes, Miss."

_She could not bother with these women then_, Elizabeth thought, administering a feeble smile. "Thank-you, anyway." Miss Swann trotted past the strumpets and descended the riotous staircase, desiring Jack or Will's presence more than ever. She paused mid-stride and shoved a few men aside when a resonant voice emerged. The voice was powerful, clamorous, and oh so familiar. Who was it? The throng was silent, and the string instruments halted their giddy orchestration; everyone's eyes focused on the sailor's acidic manner.

"So am I _worthy_ to serve under Captain Jack Sparrow?"

So he was here and _already_ causing turmoil.

The click of the pistol reverberated in the hushed room.

No, that couldn't be James... But then the voice spoke again.

"Or should I just kill you now?"

She propelled through the mass, but they would not budge. Fine then. Elizabeth propelled through the remaining stretch of stairs, and with one hand on her sword, the woman charged into the absurd brawl. Elizabeth vowed to herself at that moment that she would guide James back to his station, find Jack, and then locate Will. It was all that kept her battling those drunken men and women. Miss Swann no more, she thought fondly. She bounced into the clash, clanging swords with clumsy scraggily men and inducing more chaos. Finally, she and James were side-by-side, and he gripped an uncorked rum bottle, his eyes bloodshot but fiery. What have you done to yourself? She could not believe the sight before her. The skewed muddy clothing, the unfurled white, well now grayish, wig, and his disheveled appearance. This was not the caring good man she knew. She then thought, with sorrow leaking into her heart, _or what have I done to you?_ She would not allow her gritty expression to waver though. Elizabeth seized Norrington's empty container, hoisted it in the air, and smashed it against the man's skull, hoping that it would not bloody the former commodore's head.

"I just wanted the pleasure of doing that myself!" She announced in a gruff voice, and the mob cheered. She waited a few moments and then cautiously stepped toward the limp male, but men shoved past her and heaved James into the air, chucking the insipid figure into the pigs' muck. Once the area had cleared, Elizabeth squatted next to the man and gently turned him over.

She released a soft sigh, "James Norrington." she said in such a pitiful tone. "What has the world done to you?"

"Nothing I did not deserve." Norrington muttered, eyeing the woman. He recognized that slender shape, the entrancing brown eyes, and the petite narrow nose. "Elizabeth." He whispered. The man resumed his normal tone as she offered her hand. "What are you doing here?"

As she aided in hauling her former fiancé to his feet, she answered, "I am here to find Jack."

Although his drunken stupor had disintegrated, his countenance switched to an entirely blank stare. He obviously did not understand. "What about Will?"

"Oh no..." she murmured, realizing his mistake. She had simply dropped James off of a cliff, and of course, why wouldn't she do the same to Will if a new beau arrived? "No, James. Will left Port Royal to find Jack... But I could not just rot in a cell while our lives were on the line." This was not an adequate explanation, but Norrington received it well, swiping chunks of mud off of his cheeks and forehead. Elizabeth turned without another word, trusting that the man would pursue her, and exited the tavern, breathing the salty air as if it were heaven. She halted when the pair arrived at the docks, each stetch of land separating in different directions.

"Which way do we go?" he asked, his eyes scanning the dimly-lit bay.

She answered composedly, tapping her foot in anticipation. "We must wait for the trail."

"The trail?"

"Yes, Jack always leaves a little something... Especially in place like-" Elizabeth cut herself off, stepping toward a feverish conversation.

"Come along, girls." A thirty-something woman was nearly hollering, her and two other girls' cheeks rouged and their hair pinned and curled. "You ain't got no business with 'im. He always makes a bargain instead a' payin'. Better customers inside, girls. Nope, he may be a sweet talker, but you ain't got no good business with _that _one. And we need good business, I'll tell ya that."

The woman and her protégés passed Elizabeth and James, fluttering their eyelashes only for a moment, before they were tugged back into the grating city. Elizabeth strode on ahead, but Norrington staggered his pace, measuring his own abilities against Jack Sparrow. Maintaining a pleasant countenance, she marched toward Jack and his crew. Please let Will be resting on the _Black Pearl_, refusing to enter such a horrid place_. Please_ let her find his handsome figure awaiting and yearning for her. She glanced at her side and rapidly realized James was no longer standing beside her. She shortly witnessed a mass of fruits, livestock, weapons, and (of course) rum being heaved onto the mighty galleon. Elizabeth focused on the swaggering man who strode beside the glad step of Mr. Gibbs, and she approached the two men, forgetting James.

She partially shouted with a common expression of delight and nostalgia at the man whose hair hung in dreadlocks. "Captain Sparrow!"

The pirate replied quickly, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. "Come to join me crew, lad?" He barely paused for emphasis. "Welcome aboard."

Quite greedy for sailors, she thought as she stepped a little closer. But what would he think of an outrageous comment from a cabin boy? "I'm here to find the man I love."

The pirate curtailed his gait, then halted completely, and answered, "I'm deeply flattered, son, but my first and only love is the sea."

She resisted grinning at the comment. Although she would never admit or display her amusement at his quirky replies, she usually enjoyed the various and reeling answers. She brought herself back to reality, remembering her purpose. She could not distract herself from locating Will. Elizabeth replied in a solid tone, her eyes steadfast on the captain. "Meaning William Turner, Captain Sparrow."

"Elizabeth."

Her name. Memories of her insistent beckoning rang loudly. "It is Miss Swann." she had always screeched the command ever so mercilessly when Jack irritated her. And then reminiscences of the intoxicated island and those few weeks of frightening experiences combined with a fresh new love between her and Will. How Elizabeth wished she could return to those days... When her father could solve her troubles with the snap of his fingers, and Will could sweep her into piracy with the single grazing of his lips.

She barely heard him murmur, "Hide the rum." He swiveled around to the woman and gestured to her clothing, his eyes zipping up and down her masculine wardrobe and ignoring the sound of the former commodore spewing. In an elongated bright tone, Jack suggested provocatively, "You know, these clothes do not flatter you at all. It should be a dress or nothing. I happen to have no dress in my cabin."

No, his words would not divert her mission. She locked onto his eyes, imagining the end of her problems. _Please, just tell me he is in the cabin._ "Jack. I know Will came to find you. Where is he?"


	8. Chapter 8: The History Returns

(OT: Yay! It is an ice day, not to be confused with a snow day, that just so happened to cancel school. Therefore, I had time to write a couple scenes and start on the next one. No promises if I will post that one today though. I will more than likely skip straight to the Isle Cruces instead of writing the Kraken attack. I mean, if I wrote the attack it would probably seem repetitive when it comes to emotions. Anywho, enjoy this one! I liked writing the one from Will's P.O.V.)

**NOTE:** This takes place shortly after the game of Liar's Dice. In my own world, I imagine that Davy Jones' and Will shared a few lines that were cut from the movie.Davy said that he only bets on the thing that a man holds the most dear to his heart and eventually concluded that it was a woman. From what I remember, Davy Jones sort of ridiculed Mr. Turner for loving a woman, but Will replied that it wasn't wrong as long as you love the right woman. Sorry I couldn't include that bit. I only wanted to if I could find the lines.

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"Who is she?" Bootstrap Bill lumbered beside his son, escorting Will about the _Flying Dutchman's_ chambers shortly after their poignant game of Liar's Dice.

Will allowed his hand to graze the algae encrusted walls, expecting the substance to wipe onto his hands, but the green and brown slime was molded as a plaster. "Who?" he asked softly as the two men stepped around the hatch leading to an empty wine and rum cellar.

"The right woman that you chose."

"Oh," he paused, imagining his beloved's golden face for a moment. "She's the governor's daughter. Her name is Elizabeth."

"And you are set to marry her?"

Will lowered his voice, but faith in his mission resonated as he answered, "Yes, it is the reason I am after the key. It will save her."

Bootstrap grimaced; Will had revealed that Jack Sparrow had sent him aboard that reef-crashed vessel where he was pressganged into the crew, but Bill did not honestly believe that a single two-pronged key could save Will's damsel. He did not reply as he led Will up a short flight of stairs, passing by several snarling members. Bootstrap halted and leaned against a bare stretch of wall and inquired, "What's she like?"

His eyes glazed over in a dreamy stare, imagining the woman in her lovely gowns and in those silly knee-length breeches she wore during their fencing sessions. "Elizabeth is beautiful... And untamable, but I would not want it any other way." The man could not help grinning at the prospect of their marital felicity, but it soon vanished when he remembered that Elizabeth was still locked in a cell while the hangman's noose beckoned her name.

Bootstrap feebly spoke, his voice almost quivering. "And your mother... Where is she now?"

"You don't know?" Will shook his head. After all these years, and his father still believed Mrs. Turner was alive and well, prepared to bless the ceremony of one Elizabeth Swann and Will Turner. His mouth gaped open, but speech would not form as Bootstrap awkwardly crossed his arms, awaiting a merry update. When Will finally responded, his tone was sturdy with a furious heat beating beneath it. "She died when I was ten. During the winter, she contracted pneumonia and passed away a fortnight later." Will inhaled a wavering breath; once he had realized that his father turned pirate, the man had accepted the fact and partially blamed Bootstrap for all that happened. If his father hadn't departed under false pretenses, then his mother might still be alive. It was_ his_ fault that Will and his mother were forced to dismiss their servants (due to their minimum income) and tend to their needs day in and day out, working themselves until they collapsed in exhaustion.

Bootstrap's eyes descended to the floor. So that was it then. His wife had perished while he was roving the seas, drinking and cavorting whenever he pleased. "I am sorry, Will."

Will hissed, barely absorbing the apology. "Was becoming a pirate always your intent? Did you ever plan on returning?"

"Yes... And no. I started as an honest sailor, but pirating was effortless. With a spin of the dial I could alter my path, and so I did. Afterward, I knew I could never return to you and your mother." He said solemnly, swiveling around to lean around the bend of the wall. "Through there," he murmured to his son, "You will find Davy Jones." Waving for his son to move closer, Bootstrap pointed to the double doors, issuing a proposal tacitly.

Will leaned into the double doors, hearing the voluminous hum swell into a full blown tune and tinker up and down the various level of keys. The blacksmith nodded and the pair continued their journey through the interior of the _Flying Dutchman_, avoiding spectators.

"I will replace Greenbeard at the helm this evening so that you have a better chance of escaping." Bootstrap directed as they finally halted and seated themselves at a beaten forest-green table.

"Thank you for everything." Will replied gently. The singe had faded away, forgetting his earlier blame.

"It is the least I can do. You deserve a better fate than spending eternity on this ship."

Will nodded, reclining in the chair and glancing around the chamber. He would sure have a mouthful to supply Jack, he thought, scowling at the pirate's devilish way of, once again, using his devotion to Elizabeth as a successful ploy. The man drummed his fingers on the tabletop as his father exited, called upon by the Bo'sun.

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Elizabeth retorted, "I don't know what you mean." Of course she knew what James was referring to. She had been contemplating those haughty, ridiculous comments that emerged from Jack Sparrow's lips only moments before. He was so cleverly annoying and those memories of the fiery night on the island clouded her thoughts. He always caught her off guard even when she thought she was entirely prepared.

Norrington scoffed at the woman's innocent response. "Oh, I think you do."

"Oh, don't be absurd." She claimed, now willingly admitting the truth that she was indeed thinking about the captain's suave ways. She announced, "I trust him, that's all."

James chuckled and began to stroll away, but he paused at the mast, inquiring with a smug smile, "So you never wondered how your _latest_ fiancé ended up on the _Flying Dutchman_ in the first place?"

Elizabeth's lips pursed together, unable to respond and wondering what in the world he meant. She did not desire Jack, but that fleeting suggestive comment from Norrington led her to finger the contraption that dangled on her belt. She _wanted _Will. She_ wanted_ to wed her wonderful man and feel the warmth of his body every night. And yet... Her heart thudded as she removed the compass from her belt and flipped it open. The crimson dial vibrated, hesitated, and then twirled to the helm, where Jack viewed his surroundings through the spyglass, his head slightly tilted back.

Her heart _wanted_ Jack.

Elizabeth nearly squealed as she flicked the tool closed and attached it onto her brown belt once again. No, she thought, her mind shrieking, Will is my fiancé. I love him. I love him. She bit her lip and was tempted to open the compass for a second time. Jack suddenly caught her impetuous gaze and casted a self-satisfied smile to the woman. He then opened the flap of his navy-blue jacket, trailing his fingers along the letters of marque and then returning his gaze to the sea. With fists clenched, she ducked her head and charged into the cabin. This was not what she wanted. She loved Will. She wanted to marry him. She did, didn't she?

(Sorry, another vital note that I must include for my own purposes. This is straightly from Elizabeth's vantage point. She believes that the compass is pointing at Jack because she wants him, but in reality (in my opinion that is), the compass dial was pointing to the letters of marque, which in turn could easily save Will. Thus, the compass did not point to the physical Jack, but perhaps what he represents and what is inside of his jacket.)


	9. Chapter 9:Questionable Motives & Reunion

(All right, I skipped Will's heroic sliding-down-the-sail-and-escaping-the-Kraken-attack due to the fact that I believe that scene speaks for itself. Oh, and I did not enjoy the fact that they never mentions Will's beating again. I mean, dude, its gonna leave some scars and wounds for quite a while. So glimpe into his pain. Can I hear a great big "aw! poor will!" Hehe. Willabethers... Appreciate the reunion because I stepped past my own boundaries and went ahead and wrote the majority of the scene between Jack, Elizabeth, Norrington, and Will... Up until a little after his arrival that is. Ah, the reality exists. The compass was always pointing to the chest and I tried to add hints. Enjoy!

P.S. Not sure which way I'm going... But more than likely I'll walk my readers through the Kraken attack and maybe a longer conversation between Will and Elizabeth or something. Nothing entirely cohesive leading to the Kiss of Death, but a little something. We'll see.)

Elizabeth trudged over to the staircase, the deck of the _Black Pearl_ empty and the sails flailing in the wind. It had been three days since her faltered thoughts on Jack and Will, and she had awoken the night before with frightening nightmares. Will had commanded in a level yet scorching tone, at their ruined wedding no-less, that if she yearned for Jack's company, then she should not resist. He would step aside if that is what his loved one desired.

_But it isn't!_ Elizabeth had shrieked as Will strode away, fully knowing that he only wanted what was best for her.

Now, her own ghastly voice tainted her thoughts. It wasn't what she wanted! It isn't! She loved Will body and soul, but when she had glanced at the compass the previous evening, it had spun sporadically, never resting on one direction. She refused to gaze at the contraption throughout the day and avoided Jack's entrancing presence. Elizabeth would never deny that there was always chemistry between them. That wild, untamed and yet honest stripe through Jack and Elizabeth's hearts would forever reappear and bound their actions, but it did not resemble the relationship with William. The pair could catch the slightest glimpse of one another and almost immediately distinguish the other's plan.

And what if, like in her dream, their marriage was shattered by that stupid... That irreverent... That completely _reliable_...compass? She could not bear the thought.

Footsteps made her eyes swivel to the railing and then return to the deck of the Pearl. Jack seated himself a couple stairs down from Elizabeth, his eyebrows raised in curiosity, and his lips forming those charming unrelenting words that threw Elizabeth repeatedly into imprudent actions... For the most part.

"My tremendous intuitive sense of the female creature informs me that you are troubled." He said swiftly, his body pressed gently against her arm.

Elizabeth only paused for a moment, her eyes welling with possible tears. "I just thought I'd be married by now." Her heart quivered along with her voice. Jack was so close. Too close. But her thoughts did not become eschew. Will was still there, his soft eyes comforting, but his figure far away. "I'm so ready to be married."

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Will clung onto the teeth of the _Flying Dutchman's_ gaping mouth, his lashings stinging like bees as the vessel bounced through the waves, nose-diving into a few. He plastered himself against the narrow wall several times, avoiding the curious mutated sailors who heard his occasional screeches when seawater leaked onto his wounds. Although his body was consumed with surviving the bounding ship's movements, he began to contemplate the beautiful embroidered gown he had clutched to his chest, absorbing the woman's lingering scent. So Elizabeth had escaped and was now roaming the seas in one place or another. He should have guessed that his loved one would not withstand waiting for his return, and it was fortunate that she was rash enough to take her leave. The man allowed a sleight smile to creep at the corners of his mouth. He could now find Jack (with the unintentional significant aid from Davy Jones), stab the heart, rescue his father, and restore his and Elizabeth's marriage vows. Yes, that is exactly what he would do.

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The quartet climbed out of the ebony colored longboat, and the throng watched Jack tenderly arrange the jar of dirt against the seat. The woman shook her head in incredulity. What was his attachment to... dirt? Norrington merely ignored the spectacle, grasping both shovels and shoving one into Sparrow's hands with an indignant grunt.

"Guard the boat, mind the tide... Don't touch my dirt." Jack commanded in utter seriousness, waggling his fingers at Pintel and Ragetti, who rolled their eyes. "This way!" Jack beckoned James and Elizabeth, waving his hand, but then halting for a moment, gesturing for Elizabeth to lead the way.

The trio padded along the beach in silence, straying further and further away from the longboat and twitching with every twirl of the compass. Elizabeth screwed her face, unsatisfied with the constant eclectic pattern. Within a few minutes, a decayed majestic chapel came into view, and the Port Royal natives paused in fleeting awe.

"I didn't expect anyone to be here." Norrington noted as they resumed their stride.

"There's not." Elizabeth answered pointedly, her eyes leaving the red dial and glancing at Jack's ambling figure, who apparently did not wish to hear the tale.

James' head tilted as he surveyed the lush island. "You know this place?"

Her nose was not wedged in novels throughout her girlhood for naught. Whenever there was a lapse between pirate fantasies, Elizabeth had taken to perusing documents concerning the surrounding cities and then begging sailors for the fascinating myths and legends. Of course, who could refuse the curious little miss (whose father could dismiss them at a moment's notice)?

"Stories," she replied confidently, rattling the compass like a magic lamp in frustration. "The church came to Isla Cruces and brought salvation to its followers...And disease and death. They say the priest had to bury everyone, one after the other. It drove him mad, and he eventually hung himself." Elizabeth narrated nonchalantly, snarling useless side-comments to the navigational device and looking up and down at the captain. The arrow erratically whirled to the left, then to Jack, and then to the shoreline. She immediately thought of the limits she had pursued with Jack only a short while ago, and her haunting dreams echoed through the chambers of her mind. Elizabeth snapped from her reverie when James spoke, his tone bitter.

"Better mad with the rest of the world than sane alone."

What had he become? Had James, honest and noble James, become this horrid person who clung to mistakes and refused to mend bridges? She stared at him inquisitively as she allowed her hands to drop to her waist. "James," she responded gently, almost brushing against him. "How can you believe-"

After thrusting the shovel into Norrington's hands, Jack interrupted Elizabeth. "No fraternizing with the help, love." He said hastily, trotting in front of the sandy-blonde woman and correcting her posture. With his eyes locked onto hers, Jack lifted both of Elizabeth's hands and curled her fingers around the black and tan compass. "Now which way, Miss Swann?"

Elizabeth glowered at the kohl masked eyes for a moment while pondering the sound of her formal name. _If only it was Mrs.Turner..._ The compass rotated and then settled on one direction with Jack's gleaming smile hovering over her shoulder. The woman swerved from her original path, pursing her lips in concentration and stepping over vibrant green ferns. The men followed her, but eventually created stations on either side of the woman as she paced in a consistent triangle.

To the left... Now backward... Now to Jack! Now to the shore!

The damn compass was teasing her mind. It was pointing in the correct position only moments ago, was it not? She halted, her eyebrows furrowed, and she spun around again. She heaved out a sigh, feeling the eyes of Norrington and Jack on her.

"Take your time, love." Jack voiced lightly, although when she gazed into his looming eyes, she witnessed a furious haste.

Elizabeth stared at the compass, and it too was glaring at Jack and then at Norrington. She thought of his name, could feel it on her lips... And yet, it pointed once again in Jack's direction and then swiveled around. "This doesn't work." she yelped angrily, plopping down in criss-cross position and tossing the compass to her side. "And it certainly doesn't show you what you want most." Oh, that infuriating man. Where were Will's arms? Why wasn't he here to guide her through the obstacle course?

Captain Sparrow bent at the waist, squinting as he gazed at the compass. "Yes, it does." He answered keenly. "You're sitting on it!"

With piercing eyes, Elizabeth inquired blankly, "Beg your pardon?"

"Move." he demanded palpably, whistling for her to shift positions.

Elizabeth scooted from her seat, and Norrington instantly took her place, thrusting the shovel into the gritty sand. She joined the excavation, plunging her broken nails into the earth and sliding mounds of sand away from the site. Realizing her hands could not match James' motions, she pulled away and stood up. The woman grimaced as the captain plunked into the lotus position, his thumb and index fingers gently pressed against one another and his eyes closed in apparent concentration. Silly man. What could meditation serve? She then turned her attention to James, whose shovel clanged against something solid. The chest.

The trio knelt down and carved their way through the malleable sand, their eyes bright with anticipation. The men lugged the shabby brown container from its grave and wiped the particles to the ground.

"It's real!" Elizabeth squealed, glancing at Jack in complete admiration. She had never thought that Jack was dishonest by any means, but the ol' captain had his ways of winding the truth around possible relatable lies.

James' swallowed down the gulp of faux credulity and stated, "You actually were telling the truth."

Jack answered with poise, eyeing his cohorts with a sense of pride. "I do that quite a lot," he said, "Yet people are always surprised."

"With good reason!" A voice boomed behind them and heavy breathing followed the exertion. Will eyed the blonde hair that hung over the back of a woman... His gorgeous Elizabeth's back... And barely suppressed a smile.

"Will!" Elizabeth exclaimed, hopping to her feet and galloping into his arms. _Yes,_ she thought fondly, _it had pointed to the beach because he was coming!_ "You're all right! Thank God! I came to find you!"

Her elongated journey was now summed up in a few words, and Will quickly wrapped his arms around his lovely damsel who was dressed, not surprisingly, in men's clothing. They gazed into one another's eyes for a moment, and then their breath merged, and their lips firmly compressed. Will's arms swung around her upper back and waist, while her hands felt the back of his neck, disregarding the moist leather and consumed by her beloved. Will had waited for this moment and had dreamed of her touch during those days at sea while battling the Kraken and confronting a squid-faced Davy Jones. Elizabeth had longed for the contact, for the undulating rhythm she could feel in his mouth, and the sweet surrender her mind descended into whenever he spoke. Those quivering emotions for Jack now flushed into eternity, and all she desired was for another kiss and another place and time.

"How did you get here?" The pair turned to Jack, who was confused by Mr. Turner's sudden appearance.

She leaned into William's body, directing a tight smile to Jack, and then back to Will as he narrated his own journey. "Sea turtles, mate." Will uttered stiffly, obviously jesting about a situation Elizabeth had never heard. "A pair of them, strapped to my feet." Mr. Turner now wanted to corner Jack, to pin him like Bootstrap lashed his back.

"Not so easy, is it?"

"But I do owe you thanks, Jack." Will answered, ignoring Jack's quip and baring his teeth. He would not allow Sparrow to lead Elizabeth in deceit, as Will assumed the captain already had.

Jack awkwardly inquired, "You do?"

"After you tricked me onto that ship to square your debt with Jones..." His voice rumbled, eyeing Jack at a level plane. Elizabeth interjected, as he supposed she would, dumbfounded by this discovery.

"What?"

Jack replied in a high falsetto, mocking Elizabeth's clarification. "What?"

Will continued, "I was reunited with my father." He slid Elizabeth to the side, but she was already wriggling from his grasp, casting a gratified glare at William. She could not believe him! Every single word...

"Oh, well you're welcome then." Jack nearly smiled, and it pushed Elizabeth to confront the pirate.

The woman stalked toward Jack, her step infuriating and her eyes stone-cold. "Everything you said to me... Every word, was a lie?" She asked the question, but she knew the answer. Oh! How could she ever think she esteemed this wretched man? He lied to her. He lied to her about the most important thing in the world. That horrid pirate!

"Pretty much," he replied, shrugging without woe, "Time and tide, love."


	10. Chapter 10: Battling Revelation

(OT: Sorry if it bothers you that I skipped around and oh, I added a bit with Elizabeth just for kicks. She realizes... Well, you will see. I really wanted the emphasis in the end that her thoughts during the battle also leads to the kiss. She wasn't just slaking her lust... It was a little vengeful as well. Well, probably two more chapters for DMC including the kiss of death (mostly Will since I wrote one entirely about Elizabeth's thoughts a while back-read if you like its called _Charming Murderess. _Although, I would now add so much more to her thoughts and emotions. Sorry, off track.) Anywho, then I will write one about either the trip up the river or once they arrive at Tia's shack.

If you please, I would really like any um input if I should continue this through AWE, and if I do, whether I should start a new fic just about AWE or just make this one a very long one. Thanks!)

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Elizabeth eyed William's placid expression while stroking his long brown locks, reminding the woman of the day they met. She retracted her stare at Will and surveyed the deck of the _Black Pearl_. The sailors scurried to and fro, with Jack gripping his "valuable" jar of dirt and directing the vessel. She grimaced at the dazzling-eyed captain, who did not even cast a glance at the woman and her comatose fiancé. Even though Jack thought that he had slyly smacked Mr. Turner, Elizabeth had witnessed the encounter, but the reason remained a mystery to her. At that moment, she had only focused on returning to the ship, but now, all she really desired was to confront Jack Sparrow and spit a speech right into his dazed eyes. Elizabeth knew Jack to be a swindler occasionally, but she did not expect him to cross her. Not her. Not Elizabeth Swann... Or William Turner for that matter. What had they ever done to Jack? And he had fooled and sentenced Will to be tortured by that revolting beast... Davy Jones. Elizabeth then turned back to Will when she heard him shift positions.

Will's eyes fluttered open, confused as to his location and surprised by the lengthy blonde tresses that swayed right above his face. His eyes finally focused, and the man gazed at Elizabeth for only a second before realizing that he was lying on a uncomfortable metal grate, his head throbbed like a sledgehammer had hit him, and Sparrow was the man to blame for all his troubles.

"What happened to the chest?" he asked, hoping that someone in the vicinity was grasping onto the blasted thing and guarding the container with his or her life.

Elizabeth replied in a gentle creaky voice, "Norrington took it to draw them off." She did not expect Will to immediately long to take her into his arms, but she certainly did not expect that inquiry. _The chest_, she thought, _is a step for his father. For his family. _

"What about Jack's debt? You heard him. He needs the heart as much as I do."

"I have also _seen_ his consistent yearning," she muttered and then helplessly shrugged. "I don't know, but Jack didn't even protest." Offering her hand, Elizabeth helped William to his feet and then asked, "How is your head?"

"I will survive. I promise." He allowed a swift smile to diffuse across his countenance, relieved to have the woman by his side.

The pair gazed at the captain and his first-mate, who were joyously conversing on their escape. Will and Elizabeth glanced at one another, mutually deciding that any discourse with Jack would be futile at this point, and then both stepped back in horror as the _Flying Dutchman_ surfaced beside them, its massive bow gasping for oxygen and its devilish crew members rattling their chains.

"Will," she whispered, grasping his arm.

"Hey! Fishface! Lose something?" Jack hollered while displaying his jar of dirt giddily.

"What does he have to bargain?" Will murmured to himself, confused by Jack's common flippant expression. That jar of dirt must contain something far more precious than what Tia Dalma described.

"Hey!" Jack called the attention again, but promptly tripped over his own feet and tumbled down the staircase with a loud, "Oup!" on his way down.

"Oh!" Both Elizabeth and Will's faces contorted in somewhat concern.

"Got it!" The captain recovered, leaping to his feet and holding up the container merrily. "Come to negotiate, eh, have you, you slimy git?" he inquired smugly, all the while strutting as if he held the gold medal. "Look what I got," he chanted. "I got a jar of dirt! I got a jar of dirt! And guess what's inside it?"

Elizabeth took a few steps forward, observing Jack as Davy Jones' little eyes squared off. The algae-encrusted vessel abruptly lowered their cannon covers, and Jack muttered a command, which Elizabeth quickly repeated. "Hard to starboard!"

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Miss Swann trotted across the deck and cast her gaze to the captain as he stood at the helm, with his expression... Satisfied? Content? She could not read him as he gripped his precious jar of dirt. As the sails flapped open, Jack's navy-blue jacket wafted open as well, and Elizabeth noted that the letters of marque no longer peeked out of the inner pocket. The woman fingered the compass, and even in these precarious circumstances, Elizabeth could not help but smile. The pieces suddenly merged into the puzzle; she had filched the letters of marque to trade her and Will's freedom. Or at least, that was her original scheme. She tore the accurate contraption from her belt, glanced at her surroundings cautiously, forgetting the distant cannon fire, and peered at the crimson decisive dial. It wavered for only a moment before resting on her fiancé, her beloved... One William Turner. Elizabeth grinned (to the fact that the compass was never pointing Jack), trod up the staircase, called the pirate's name, and tossed him the compass.

"I don't need it anymore." She announced confidently with almost an enchanted air. Jack stared at her inquisitively, clearly confused, before attaching the compass to his own double belt. She suddenly scrambled to the side of the vessel when the cannon fire halted. "She's falling behind!" Elizabeth shouted, flashing a smile at the prospect of escaping the wretched _Flying Dutchman. _

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"We musta hit a reef!" a sailor bellowed as several members of the crew careened over the railing at the sudden jolt.

William hollered commandingly, "No! It's not a reef. Get away from the rail!" He gripped Elizabeth's hands, yanking her away from the railing and squeezing her slender fingers in anticipation. He would not let his loved one descend into the depths or be lugged into Davy Jones' crew.

"What is it?" The woman asked, gazing into Will's brown eyes that bulged with anxiety of the terror of the deep.

"The Kraken." he hissed and then swiveled around to the crew. "To arms!" He surveyed his surroundings, formulating an uneasy plan. Elizabeth followed his movements, confident that he would develop something brilliant.

Gibbs complacently agreed with the commands and added, "All guns! Defend the masts!"

"It'll attack the starboard side." Will announced. "I've seen it before. Break out the cannons and hold for my signal." As he thundered down the staircase he grasped a sword out of a wooden bucket, breathing steadily even though his heart thudded agitatedly. The man descended below deck, focusing on the frightened crew. "Easy boys!" he shouted, his voice booming throughout the chamber. With a deep rumbling sound, the giant monster's tentacles crawled up the hull, popping as the suction cups inched over the portholes.

"Will?" Elizabeth shuffled backward as she squealed, her hands gripping a long spear and her eyes widening.

"Steady! Steady." His call resonated even in the ears of the sailors who defended the mast.

"Will?" Her voice rose to a shriek as the tentacles scaled above their heads and writhed hither and thither. What in the world was he waiting for?

"Hold," he commanded, "Hold..." He could feel his own breath shorten as the Kraken's arms shrouded the ship and roared beneath the hull.

"I think we've held fire long enough." Pintel partially whined with his scrawny friend nodding in agreement.

"Will?!" Elizabeth gripped the rope and leaned into the ship, glaring at the back of her fiancé and disregarding the fact that she gripped the spear for a reason.

"FIRE!" He instructed, his low voice clutching the pirates by the throat. The cannons were lit, and the tentacles quivered from the blow, several severed and descending into the sea in partial defeat. Will smiled sleightly as he scrambled back on deck and gently grazed Elizabeth's arm. "It'll be back." He remarked solemnly. "We have to get off the ship."

Her eyes swiveled around the man to gaze at the fractured dinghies. "There's no boats." she proclaimed gently. Now what would they do? _Swim_ to shore? Yes, this would surely be the end.

Will turned to glance at the wrecked boats and then directed, "Pull the grates! Get all the gunpowder onto the net in the cargo hold." Grasping a musket, he shoved it into the woman's hand. "Whatever you do," he ordered assertively and hesitantly at the same time, "don't miss."

Gritting her teeth and ignoring the way her unfastened hair swooped around her ears, she replied and nodded, "As soon as you're clear." The pair set off in separate directions, but not before gazing at each other eyes in mutual concern for one another. She trudged across the deck and tossed a vacant sailor's hands a long gun. "Step to," she ordered as she continued walking. The woman suddenly halted and turned to the open sea. There, in the distance, was Jack Sparrow plowing through the mild waters. Not only did he subject Will to trials aboard the _Flying Dutchman_ and deceive her repeatedly, that damn pirate was also deserting them. Deserting his dedicated crew. His acquaintances... friends, whatever the hell you might call them. "Oh!" she cried in disgust, wanting to curse the man. "You coward." Another heavy thud struck the _Black Pearl_, and she jolted nearly off her feet and then scurried to positioning, forgetting the captain for a moment.


	11. Chapter 11: If Only She Explained

(OT: Oh goodness. This was difficult to write (not to sound like I'm bragging but) I know it may break a few hearts, even though we know exactly what happens during AWE. This is Will and Elizabeth's point of view of the kiss of death. I borrowed a few pieces from my fic about Elizabeth's POV, but mostly everything was freshly re-written. I did not realize until I was writing this why Will looked so angry. Of course, I won't describe it here... You will just have to read to find out my take. It is not perfect, and I am absolutely sure as soon as I finish posting this I will go, "Oh! I wish I had included this thought or this emotion." But that's all right.

Thank you so much for all the reviews! You are too kind! As I said, probably one more chapter for DMC. And then... I will continue with AWE, but I will not promise such frequent updates. This week was sort of a fluke because it has been so easy, but next week I'm fairly swamped with tests, appointments etc, but I will do my best to update on weekends. All right. Carry on. I'll shut it.)

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Her eyes flitted across the mangled deck and then rested on both men for a moment. Gazing over her left shoulder, Elizabeth agreed, "He's right. We have to head for land." She and Jack locked eyes for a second, maybe two, and she witnessed the glimmer fading from his expression. His eyes were now utterly remorseful, no longer radiating the spell that Elizabeth had succumbed to only days before. Perhaps he was prepared to apologize for dragging his crew and an innocent couple into this wretched mess, but she did not think he was near expressing it. The woman then glanced to William, whose hair draped in a greasy chaotic way and whose brown doe eyes beckoned for her to stand by his side. She withdrew her gaze, focusing on the ground.

"That's a lot of open water." Pintel remarked after gazing to the isolated shoreline, while revealing all of their thoughts. The Kraken could easily attack while they were rowing through the placid waters.

"That's a lot ah wata'." Ragetti repeated.

Will strolled to the side of the ship and gazed to the sea, biting his lip in frustration. This was all Jack's fault, but at least the Kraken had vanished... For now. "We have to try." He pleaded, turning back to the crew as positive as possible. He explained in a growling voice, one that he usually employed in commands. "We can get away as it takes down the _Pearl_." Will stared at Elizabeth, hoping that she might cast a sleight smile or even feebly purse her lips and wave for him to take her hand, but she did not return the gaze, which was extremely unusual. Over the years, Elizabeth had developed a keen sense for knowing exactly when Will was gazing at her in anxiety or admiration, but now, she stared at the planks, her eyes swiveling from one corner to the other.

"Abandon ship..." Gibbs announced reluctantly. He then charged his words, blooming his voice as he bellowed, "Abandon ship or abandon hope." The filthy man stepped in front of Elizabeth, and Will quickly followed, disregarding the woman's presence. They passed each other the long guns while the remaining crew scaled the gangway solemnly.

She planted her feet, grinding them as she rotated her head to observe Jack. He had destroyed her and Will's possible marital felicity. She had dreamt of him eradicating her relationship with Will, while in reality he had lied and forsaken them in one foul swoop. Elizabeth's expression did not altar as she stared at _him_, at that pirate. Her mouth gaped slightly open as she thought of everything that would be demolished if Jack climbed into the longboat. Oh yes, the Kraken would swallow the _Pearl_, and then it would vacate the site and pursue the crew. Will descended the side of the ship, and Gibbs' attention was turned to loading the longboat. This was her chance. Every fiber of her being screeched that there were several reasons _not_ to commit this act, but there was a throbbing motive that prevailed over everything. It would save her. It would save Will. Two steps forward. And three steps back in morals.

Elizabeth realized the sole way to distract the captain, and the woman allowed the faint thirst for his lips to flourish in her thudding heart and untamable mind. It began to secrete through her, as it did those days before and as it did when she had become elated and intoxicated alongside this man on that abandoned island. She watched the captain survey his vessel a last time, and his hand grazed the mast in a final farewell. The woman glided toward him in determination, repressing the swelling of her own heart that it was, by and by, a betrayal to Will, but also the only way to save their skins. Elizabeth approached the pirate as he strode past the mast, heaving in several deep breaths, ignoring the fluttering "no" at the back of her mind.

"Thank you, Jack." Her words were sincere. Jack had returned to the vessel and rescued Will and her life. For that, she would be eternally grateful, but it did not alter the fact that he went around everything else incorrectly.

The man gravely swiveled around three-quarters of the way at the sound of her gentle tone. "We're not free yet, love."

That last word. _Love_. It stung her heart like a thorn in her ribcage, and yet, she consumed the speech and allowed a smile to creep, her pearly teeth gleaming for flesh. She closed her mouth and then answered, "You came back." She paused, observing the flicker in his eyes. He was clearly wondering what this was leading to, why she was so appreciative, but he did not shift or ask a question. She stepped forward a little closer, now feeling his rum-soaked breath against her cheeks. "I always knew you were a good man." His eyes glowed as she glanced at his wilting lips and then to his soulful eyes. He stared blankly as she locked onto his gaze, mouth agape. The woman's eyes fluttered half-way closed as she looked to his lips once more, stepped forward, and leaned into the pirate. This was her lust, her desire that she loathed to claim, even though it was only a few lustful thoughts, those that evaporated when she thought of Will gripping her waist and stroking her neck with his lips. His hot breath merged with her own, and her calloused fingertips scraped against his navy jacket. Her lips began gently caressing and then ravaging his, propelling him backward with the taste of a governor's daughter. Her broken nails inched up his arm and clasped his dreadlocks and neck for a moment, before realizing that this was not Will. Jack would never hold her ever so tenderly as they escaped the tragedy. Elizabeth returned to her mission. Her dreadful mission. Save them. Save her. Save Will.

Discounting Elizabeth's unheeded attention, William Turner was handed a musket and turned his back to his fiancé. He assumed the woman was in complete distress, just as he was, except he managed to conceal his fright with a broiling tone. Once Cotton, Ragetti, Pintel, and Marty had scaled the gangway, he followed, gripping the steps with one hand while lowering the weapons with the other. He wanted to escape the_ Black Pearl_ as swiftly as possible. This vessel had rescued and ruined his life repeatedly, and although he desired to rescue his father from the grip of Davy Jones, he would gladly send it to the depths if it meant that he and Elizabeth could live freely.

He passed the last long gun to Ragetti and then spun to the gap in the ship's side, expecting to see Elizabeth or Mr. Gibbs crawling above him. Instead, the man's eyes bulged with shock as he witnessed Elizabeth clutching Jack's arm, her lips against his, and moving in reverse, almost out of view. No, that couldn't be. Will's eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. She wouldn't. He loved her. She loved him. He wasn't seeing _his_ Elizabeth kissing Jack, grasping the man the identical way she had held him on the beach hours past. His left hand shifted to the step, and he gripped it in agony. Elizabeth was kissing that man. That horrid man who tricked him onto the _Flying Dutchman_... The man who attempted to seal a _deathful_ fate by telling Will that he could settle Jack's debt! Did he not lie to Elizabeth? Did Jack not lead her on and betray her, just as she was doing to him now? No, this wasn't happening. She didn't... Elizabeth kissed Jack in possibly their final moments on this earth, instead of kissing Will. She loved him. Elizabeth loved Jack.

"Prepare to cast off!" Mr. Gibbs shouted, at least four canteens clanging above Will's head. "There's no time to lose." Will did not alter his position, still trying to catch a glimpse of the pair. He needed to verify that what he saw was real. "Come on, Will! Step to!"

Will stepped down the rest of the gangway, confused and infuriated with his mind reeling. She loved the man who deceived them both. This was torture! His heart ached as he plunked into the longboat. She not only loved another man... But it was Jack. What was it that he had said a year ago? Something about it not working between them... But he had never questioned Elizabeth's quizzical expression. He assumed the captain was fabricating a single saucy comment that the woman had uttered into a love-triangle. But now, what had happened between them? Will wiped back his greasy locks and gazed to the opening, awaiting the couple. He reclined in the boat, his elbows resting on the seat. How could she do this? How could this happen? He thought... He thought that they loved each other equally.

Then, her waif-shape edged down the gangway, and Will immediately stretched out his arm and placed his calloused hand on her lower back, guiding the woman into the boat. A moment passed, and Marty and Ragetti still stared at the gap. They looked to Elizabeth's numb expression, but Will wasted no time.

"Where's Jack?" He asked with a singe in his tone.

"He elected to stay behind to give us a chance." Elizabeth Swann's words were grinded, malicious... Practiced. The crew immediately looked to the vessel, but Will refused to retract his gaze. The pair stared at one another, equally exasperated, but for entirely different reasons.

With her jaw set, she waited for a comment or another question, but Will just stared at her. Pain and desire leaked out of his eyes, but she didn't notice as she swiveled her head. The woman stared at the bottom of the boat, realizing that they were wasting time. Any moment she expected the captain to holler for aid, but there was only silence. Then, she swore she could hear the chain rattling, clanging for her to return and break the bond. She lifted her eyes to the short man and shrieked, "GO!"

There was no justification. She had hurt him. She had lashed his heart like Bootstrap lashed his back. If only she had explained on Isla Cruces and if only she hadn't kissed him so fiercely, like she loved him faster than the devil. He cast his eye to the sea as they drifted away from the ship... and away from each other.

(OT: I used several run-on/incomplete sentences in this to emphasise the scattered thoughts. I don't think either character was thinking entirely straight-forwardly. They were out of their element in my opinion.)


	12. Chapter 12: Disgrace and Sorrow

(Thank you for all the reviews! They really make me want to write new chapters as much as possible!

This one is another angsty one, as you can guess. I'm debating myself on what scenes to create at Tia Dalma's shack, due to the fact that I have written a brief 3-chapter story called "The Distance is Crushing Them" that is set between DMC and AWE from Will and Elizabeth's point of view. I have also written a scene between Jack and Elizabeth, which I might copy and include in this fic because I do think there could be so much more closure, without making it J/E shipping. Well, I will have to dwell on the future chapters for a little longer, but here is this one. Rather shorter than previous chapters, left inconclusive as expected, and nothing extremely important. Just defining the tension and the sorrow. Fresh and full of distressing thoughts.)

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For hours they rowed in complete silence, the image of the _Black Pearl_ descending into the depths reappearing each time a crew member blinked. Will had watched salty tears dribble onto the woman's vest, and she gazed at the black bottom futilely, absent-mindedly grasping the canteen when it was offered. He outstretched his hand a few times and even stroked her knee for a moment, desiring even the slightest remark.

Elizabeth refused to glance at the man, her eyes constantly welling with tears that could not be thwarted. The woman ached when he silently laid his hand on her knee, as if the very contact stung her skin. She did not deserve any kind treatment, no matter the circumstances. And yet, she squeezed his dirty fingers for her own comfort, but then slid his hand away. It was not her right anymore. Not now.

"Elizabeth," he started, his voice low and tender.

"Will, please..." It was all she could say as she attempted to scoot further away from her fiancé. She wasn't nearly composed enough to speak nor was she equipped to deal with her remorse openly. A governor's daughter no more, she thought sorrowfully this time. An incinerating stamp paved her body and pressed on her lips; Elizabeth Swann was branded a liar, a murderess, and a pirate. Her words were chained and drowned with guilt, and her tone was singed with loathing for herself. Elizabeth ducked her head, unwilling to make eye contact again, even though she felt his poignant brown eyes gazing at her in confusion.

When had it began? Did Elizabeth settle for him when she realized that Jack was unapproachable as a pirate? Questions vibrated in his mind, but he finally averted his gaze when the longboat entered the eerie swamp. William lifted his eyes to the sun that was slowly descending into the rim of the serene ocean, thinking of all the times he had spent with Elizabeth and her fervid desires. When he swiveled around, he met Elizabeth's distraught eyes as they entered the mouth of the Pantano River.

"Where are we going?" she asked gently, forestalling another stretch of eye contact by gazing into the winding foliage and murky water.

"To Tia Dalma's..." Will trailed off, but then added, "She helped us find the key."

"Oh," she released softly.

"It will take us the rest of the day to reach her." Will attempted to maintain the conversation, but Elizabeth would not have it, only nodding in reply.

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As the sun pulsated along his back, Will wriggled in the sticky black leather jacket, beads of sweat seeping through his vest and into the open wounds. He slid his arms out of the coat and allowed the moist material to scrunch around his lower back. After sighing deeply, Will turned to Mr. Gibbs, but was interrupted when slender fingers trailed his back, tenderly separated the ripped beige vest, and pressed gently upon his intact white ruffled shirt.

"Will," Elizabeth's voice made his ears tingle. "What happened?" Without a second thought, she lifted Will's already loosened blouse and traced the five lashings that overlapped one another. Her eyes widened in horror at the leaked drops of dried blood that were spread across his back, obviously from the strain of William's battles with the Kraken.

"My father..." Will replied weakly, glancing over his shoulder at her stunned expression. "I failed to secure the mast tackle, and he was forced to flog me." His head sagged solemnly as the rest of the crew gazed at the couple in complete astonishment.

"Oh, Will." Elizabeth bit her lip as she stared at the horrific gashes, and Will trembled slightly when she accidentally grazed the smallest laceration. Tears began to trickle down her masked grimy cheeks. He had suffered so much for her. He had been whipped in an attempt to steal the key... To rescue her. To prevent anything bad from happening to her.

"I am all right, Elizabeth." His blouse fluttered against his back as she released it gently. Will turned back around and grasped her hand. "I hardly feel them anymore." It was a bold-faced lie, but he didn't care. He endured the sting of the lashes each time he shifted position in the wrong way, and for now, he could not recline on his back when he slept. But if this is what it took, to assure Elizabeth that he was there for her, through thick and thin, whether she loved him or not, he was willing to sacrifice anything for her.

"That's not true." she blubbered, her lip quivering in anxiety and guilt. Elizabeth could not believe that those cavernous wounds did not make his entire upper body ache at night.

"Elizabeth..." He leaned across the longboat to embrace her, and the crew wisely turned away, but Elizabeth shook her head.

She did not deserve a loving embrace when her beloved had suffered so much and gained so little. Elizabeth crossed her arms and swiveled around, tears still flowing steadily and images of the past fortnight flashing in her mind. What disgrace she had caused to her heart. And if he found out, if_ he_ discovered the revolting self-serving act she had used against Jack, how could he ever see her the same way? Elizabeth refused to allow Will to share her burden. Her heady burden that she would cart around for the rest of her days. She was unworthy of his care. Unworthy of his sentiments. And unworthy of his love.


	13. Chapter 13: Mildly Confronting Motives

(OT: You are cracking me up with the angst love. Haha. Well, you shall enjoy the next few then or actually, several more since emotions will, of course, carry through AWE.

This one is only the first for the shack scenes. This walks you through the end of DMC, and I'll probably do one or maybe two more chapters concerning their stay at Tia's shack, so lots of broiling emotions. Will's motives and emotions definately will alter over the next couple chapters. Right now, he believe all is lost, but he will come to realize that there is always hope, if there is a cause left to fight for. I apologize that there is hardly anything new, but I'm not apt to write the shack scenes just yet. I need to really dig myself into that angst hole. I'm super excited to write about AWE though. I've been contemplating inbetween scenes for months. I was going to post them individually before this! Hmm... Lots of question marks in this one. Although, they feel all right to me. Sorry... carry on!)

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They slowly paddled through the waters as the night surrounded them, crickets creaking in their ears, and the gentle sound of someone crooning pulsating through the bayou.

"What is that?" Ragetti spoke, his voice quivering as he swiveled in the longboat. "Where is it coming from?"

"Someone is... singing." Will remarked as the throng surveyed the dim forest.

A few fireflies swirled in crooked-halos above their heads as Tia Dalma's shack came into view. They listened closer, and a woman in a patched decayed gown stood atop interweaved trees, her sweet voice broadcasting around the mourning men and the sullied woman. The crew soon realized that the lady was not singing in English; it was a foreign language to them all, but it resonated in their hearts that it concerned the deceased captain.

Tears clouded Elizabeth's eyes once again, and she swiped them quickly away when they were only a few yards from the shack. Abruptly, African American natives waded through the muddy river, grasping flaming candles and nodding to them solemnly. Pintel and Ragetti strode on the short stretch of docks first, and Gibbs and Cotton followed, leaving Will and Elizabeth alone in the boat for only a moment.

"Elizabeth?"

She trembled at the sound of his voice, but she had no where to run. She always ran when confrontation came around, but now she was obliged to stay seated until _he_ was finished. The woman pirate stared at him. What did he need? What did he want from _her_?

"Do you..." He gazed at her blankly inquisitive eyes, unable to read her crossed body language or the expression across her lips. Will stood up in the longboat; he didn't want to know right now. Will did not want to know that _his_ Elizabeth, his one love, had never loved him or was forced to love him when all else failed. He did not desire to hear her say that she could not love him. That it was not even a possibility... Grasping his coat, William corrected his previous (almost) inquiry. "You better watch your step." he said lightly, holding out his hand as his black boots touched the docks. The boots that she had once said she loved. Perhaps it was because it reminded her of Jack Sparrow... The real pirate... The desirable fascinating pirate.

She grasped his clammy hands, her eyes bulging with mourning and fresh tears. Maybe she could reveal her secret. Her filthy revolting secret... Perhaps he would understand. Then, she gazed at him, her fingers lingering against his and their eyes locked onto one another. No, Elizabeth decided, she couldn't bear to listen to him say that he could not live with a woman such as this. The disgusting pirate who would go great lengths to save her own skin. She unloosed her grip and stepped ahead of him, immediately scurrying to solitary seat and ignoring the voodoo woman's presence.

"So he has gone?" Tia Dalma inquired, although it was more of a statement. Will nodded as he draped his leather coat diagonally across the chair and plunked in it, disregarding the hopeful glimmer he had witnessed, only for a few seconds, in Elizabeth's eyes on the dock.

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The woman carried a tray of beaten leather mugs to the crew and approached Elizabeth, offering her a mug. Elizabeth glared at the burning flame and stared into Tia Dalma's glassy eyes.

"Against de cold..." she uttered softly. "And de sorrow."

Elizabeth grasped the cup and brought it to her lips, but then dropped it, listening to the deafening sound of the liquid swilling back and forth. Her mouth was no longer parched for something she could never possess, and the corners of her mind no longer yearned for a little taste.

Tia Dalma glided to William's side after offering the rest of the crew drinks and placed a mug before him. She knelt down, her eyes twitching to the man's blade that repeatedly thudded into the table. "It's a shame." she noted, somehow aware of Mr. Turner's predicament. "I know you're t'inking dat wit the _Pearl,_ you coulda captured the devil and set free your fadder's soul."

"Doesn't matter now." He glanced to the ceiling with a slight shake of his head. His world was collapsing piece by piece. Where would he go after this? After setting Elizabeth free, would he spend the rest of his days just watching over her and wondering what it would have been like if he_ had_ rescued his father and wed Miss Swann? "The Pearl's gone," he added with a light bitter singe. "Along with its captain." Tia Dalma rose as Gibbs re-entered the shack, his footsteps clomping.

"Aye. And the world already seems a bit less bright. He fooled us all right to the end, but I guess that honest streak finally won out." He hoisted his empty mug to the air and announced, "To Jack Sparrow!" It was not a snide or bitter remark, that Jack had tricked them all, but it was more joyous of what his life brought.

Ragetti joined the toast, lifting his own cup and speaking in a feeble voice. "Never another like Captain Jack."

Pintel's face twitched in agitation that he and his comrade were once again without a vessel, but at least Jack had caused at least a little affluence to their lives. "He was a gentlemen of fortune, he was!"

Elizabeth listened to these true, sentimental comments. What was she to say? That he was a pirate, just like her. That she loathed that she had once felt a fluttering in her heart from a mere attraction to him: That it was she who murdered the captain to save them? That she was willing to suffer for her horrid sins? The woman barely lifted her mug as she cried soundly, "He was a good man." They all guzzled the contents, but Elizabeth rubbed the container, unable to drink. How was she to drink to something she caused? To something that might have been prevented? Was it the only way? She had thought... at that moment that it was the only way to save them, but perhaps something could have been done...

Will sipped, set the mug down, and then cast his gaze on his once lovely girl. Her hair cascaded in her tear and ash-smudged face, but she was so beautiful to him. He could not wait any longer. He could not wait to see if she owned up to her emotions. Unintentionally making his voice solidly loud he began to ask, "If there was anything that could be done to bring him back..." He paused when Elizabeth's head did not rise. "Elizabeth." He caught her eyes, but they were directed to Tia Dalma when she interjected.

**"**Would you do it? Hmmm?" She swiveled to Elizabeth and then to the crew. "What would you? Hmmm? What would _any _of you be willing to do? Hmmm? Would you sail to the ends of de eart', and beyond, to fetch back witty Jack and 'im precious _Pearl_?

Gibbs voice immediately proclaimed his answer behind the former couple. "Aye."

Pintel and Ragetti agreed, one after the other. Cotton's macaw also voiced the pirate reply, his squawk screeching in Elizabeth's ears. There was silence. Will was observing her, waiting to answer. Would she do it? Would she do anything to bring him back, to save him so that she could ardently love him?

Her voice quivered as she nodded. She almost murmured, "Aye," but her heart could not settle in the phrase. She was branded for that curt reply, but now, she must step from that trademark and absolve her sins that singed Will and Jack. "Yes."

So, Elizabeth assured his mind. If she would do anything to rescue him... He was fully aware true love knew no bounds. It could stretch for miles and years... He thought it was in his grasp, but alas, it had slipped by without him knowing it. "Aye," Will whispered, glancing away from the two women. The greased woman was no longer _his_ Elizabeth. She was another's. She was Jack's once and for all. Now, he could rescue the _Pearl_, and Jack, and stab the beating heart of Davy Jones' and at least regain a relationship with his father.

"All right..." Tia Dalma's black lips parted to grin wickedly. "But if you're going to brave de weird and haunted shores, at world's end, den you will need a captain who knows dose waters" She gestured, and the clacking of boots vibrated along the staircase. The crew rose one by one, and Elizabeth slid to the front, gripping the handle of her sloshing mug. Her eyes widened as a scraggily beard came into view, a monkey on his shoulder and his wiry hand clutching an apple.

"So tell me," the aged pirate asked, "What's become of my ship?" He chuckled and chomped his teeth into the vibrant green apple and juice dribbled down his chin.


	14. Chapter 14: They Turn Away

(OT: My oh my... And this chapter started out so small. Haha, now look at it! Well, I granted your request, but not entirely... About the lashes that is... You will see...)

Elizabeth sidled through the vine-like streamers, escaping the men's avid attention to the journey and investigating the new abode. She strolled to an open door in the far right corner and barely caught herself from falling into the shallow river, the ledge dropping at least five feet. The woman spun around and approached crates of wine and rum, her mind eager for a foggy distraction. After grasping a bottle and popping the cork, she swigged nearly one-half of the contents and plopped on the damp wooden floor by a large chest, engraved with depictions of the ocean's swirling tide.

It was their second day staying in Tia Dalma's shack, and it seemed there were always something to explore and a vacant place where Elizabeth could remove those burden thoughts from her mind. As she guzzled a little more of the liquid, she contemplated the revealed reasons in a misty haze as the alcohol began pulsing through her blood.

So Barbossa only desired to rescue Jack because of the East India Trading Company's threat to piracy, and she _yearned_ to rescue him to soothe her guilt. And Will, she pondered curiously, her mind reeling in an rare manner, What did he desire? Why was he going? It was true, she knew Will to follow her, but she had barely made contact with him. She could not imagine he would want to be in her presence much longer... Nor Jack's. He could take his leave if he so wished... But his perpetual vision soon came into view; Will had pined for her since they were twelve years old, and he would continue to pine for Miss Swann until he cradled her heart. She rubbed her temples at a light throb, and she outstretched her hand and fiddled with the dangling padlock on the odd chest. She crawled to her knees and gently flipped the large container open. Mounds of clothes were neatly folded and stacked, and on the opposite side, there were heaps of weathered letters with their golden seals broken. She gently gripped one and opened the yellow tinted paper. Elizabeth's eyes widened as she read the brief inscription, her eyes focused on the signature.

_Liefde, _

_ Kapitein Davy Jones _

The woman was stunned. Tia Dalma had contact with _him_... With the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_. The one who sentenced Jack Sparrow and his precious _Pearl_ to the locker... She attempted to skim the Dutch writing for any specific words, but there wasn't much point. Elizabeth, as expected, had little knowledge of the foreign language.

"You should not be in dere!"

The unfurled letter plunged back into the chest as Elizabeth visibly shook at the roar of Tia Dalma's voice. "I'm sorry... I didn't..."

"What did you see?" When Elizabeth stuttered and quickly clamped the chest closed, Tia Dalma repeated in a booming voice, "What did you see?!" The Jamaican woman stalked over to the dirty blonde woman and gripped her wrist, hauling Elizabeth to her feet.

Will barged into the chamber with his fists clenched. "What is happening?" His eyes scanned the women's postures and noted Elizabeth's frightened expression.

Tia Dalma continued to glower at Elizabeth, not even swiveling her head at the sound of the intruder. "Nah-ting she did not deserve." She clamped her wrist even tighter, and Elizabeth's hand began to grow pale.

Will strode over to the pair, his eyes fiery at Tia Dalma's haughty tone. "Release her."

"Will, I'm-"

He lowered his voice. He wasn't about to allow Tia Dalma to injure Elizabeth whether it was physically or verbally. "I said, release her."

Elizabeth swore she heard Tia Dalma growl a curse or incantation under her breath, but the voodoo woman released her nonetheless. "Fine den." Tia Dalma announced stridently, her long nails scraping against Elizabeth's arm as she exited the room. "One day... You will discover how cruel I can be." she snarled at the couple.

Will turned to Elizabeth, who rubbed the red ring around her wrist. He grabbed her hand to eye the mark, but then retracted his grip. He hesitantly inquired, "Are you all right?"

"Yes, thank you." She nodded and recovered the sparkling wine. "But I would have been fine on my own," she added lightly as she shrugged her shoulders. "She had a right to be angry." Elizabeth glided away from the chest and leaned against the wall, gazing through the gaping doorway as she swigged the drink once more.

Will pursued her, casting a quick glance at the leather bound container and then to the Elizabeth's swaying locks. "What did you do?" He slid between the lovely girl and the doorway, increasing their proximity.

"I just..." she trailed off to cautiously form her words. "I found something that I had no right looking at."

It was such a vague response, which only induced Will's curiosity at her discovery. "What was it though?"

"A Dutch letter..." She sighed and leaned forward to where their noses were almost touching and whispered, "From Davy Jones." Elizabeth reclined back against the wall, gazing into the river guiltily. Perhaps it would have been best if Will had no known.

Will pondered the possibilities of Tia Dalma's relations with the squid-faced man, but they exited his mind when he caught Elizabeth's distraught stare. "You were right to tell me. We should not conceal anything from one another." It was a bold statement to declare, after vowing that it was a useless cause to pursue her heart, but he only desired genuine confirmation while at the same time he never wanted to hear those delicate words from her lips, unless they were directed to him.

Elizabeth's neck snapped to look at Will, and she could not stand his insistent gaze baring into her, reading her thoughts like he always did. The woman spun around and trotted toward the entryway, avoiding locking eyes with him again.

"Elizabeth, I hate that we are not talking." His voice rose in a trilling tone, one that vibrated through her whole body. William observed the sag of Elizabeth's disposition as she nodded her head. After replacing the half-full bottle in the crate, Elizabeth departed without even a fleeting glance at her beloved.

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Elizabeth stirred from her slumber at the sound of a prolonged groan and a few hisses, slinking from the single white sheet and grasping the solitary blazing candle off of the oak dresser. She entered the adjoining chamber where Will, Gibbs, and Captain Barbossa slept, and she strolled easily about the chamber until she discovered Will's sprawled body, his muscular wounded back exposed. She gasped as she knelt next to the man, gently stroking his shoulder to rouse him from his painful sleep.

"Will," she whispered.

He murmured something inaudible and then lifted his head. "Elizabeth? Why are you here?" William partially rolled over, but Elizabeth grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back toward her. One of his eyebrows arched curiously as she subconsciously stroked back his loose brown tresses that drooped in his eyes.

"You were moaning in your sleep," the woman replied as she tacitly commanded him not to stay in position. "And your back is bleeding badly." She inched backward and waved for him. "Come into the front room, and I will wrap your back."

"That isn't necessary; I'll be fine, Elizabeth." His tone was firm as he sat up and bent forward, feeling the sticky blood dribble down his lashes and onto the floorboards.

She would not have it, finally slipping from her conscience's guilt and into worrying about Will's own needs. Elizabeth stared at him in an unwavering way, and Will almost smiled. He could see her again; he could see _(his)_ Elizabeth's loving eyes gazing at him instead of those eyes that belonged to Jack. He stood up and followed her into the front room and he quickly dragged a chair in front of the lady.

After lighting another candle, Elizabeth rummaged through a few familiar drawers, withdrew several elongated pieces of cotton material, and set a candle on either side of Will. Using the thickest section of fabric, she wiped it around William's deep gushing gashes, and he winced whenever she approached the thinnest incisions.

"They hurt the worst." he whispered as Elizabeth mothered his injuries. Even though the lashes stung like one thousand bees pricking his skin, her fingers absolved the ache and replaced it with the past joyous emotions.

"Yes," she replied in a tender tone. "The small ones always do." She stretched out the cloths and unraveled the longest one, constructing a rough measure of the width of Will's chest. "I will wrap the ones that are bleeding the most. A few seem to be healing." Elizabeth remarked. She had never been this close to Will... Or at least not when his layers of clothing were thrown aside.

He raised his arms at the impending wrapping and clenched his teeth to refrain from cursing. Will gulped down his thoughts of a lovely dream where he and Elizabeth were in a similar situation, although it ended quite differently.

She crouched under his arms, soaking in his salty scene (while realizing that he had definitely bathed) and admiring the contours of his build. The woman gently stretched the strip of material across his back, ducked under his arms, and ended eye-to-eye with his chest. She glanced up at his strange pleasant expression and pulled the material taut to tie it.

"Most people do not laugh at their pain." A strangled smile emerged and then fell from her face.

"No, but it seems we've come a little closer..."

If he said more, Elizabeth did not hear it as she abruptly stood up and gazed at Will. It had clicked that she had forgotten the burden that made her heart twinge, and the process, unfortunately, began again. The woman continued the procedure though, wrapping three strips of fabric across each wound and tying them at the front in diminutive knots over the next several minutes. "There, now," she said almost sternly, nodding in approval at her own labor.

His eyebrows furrowed. What had happened? He thought that something had altered... That something had occurred that made her change her mind... But now, she stood before him with that same strange expression, unwilling to make eye contact or speak as if they were more than acquaintances. He clasped her hands; she wasn't running away. "Elizabeth, why can't you tell me?"

"What?" She attempted to move in reverse, but he kept her steadily in position, only a few inches from his bare chest.

"You're keeping something from me... You can tell me anything." He squeezed her slender fingers, wishing that he could kiss those beautiful hands.

"No," her voice quivered, and she furiously shook her head in disapprobation. "I can't."

"Why, Elizabeth? Please let me be there for you." It was his one request of her. To be there, forever and always, even if it were a mild relationship. At that moment, he suddenly realized how much he missed those lips... And those soiled cheeks... He wanted to make everything perfect again. He desired to see her satisfied with her life... Satisfied with him.

"No, Will..." He rose from the chair, still holding her hands, and leaned forward. Of course, he did not intend on attempting a kiss, but it did cross his mind as a fleeting thought. "I'm sorry...Will." She unintentionally threw down his hands and stepped away. "I can't."

Will nodded and answered softly, "I think I understand now."

She spun around, her face absorbed in horror. Did Will know? Did he know that she finished Jack off and betrayed everyone? "You know?" she inquired, stepping forward again. Perhaps... If Will did know of the betrayal or if he was assured now, that maybe he had accepted her. Maybe he had accepted her all along, but she was too blinded to realize it.

The man nodded again, and now he was the one to turn away from the confrontation, his heart skipping a few beats as he re-entered the dark chamber with a candle in his hand. He returned to his sleeping area and eased himself onto the nest, holding his head in his hands. That was all the confirmation he needed. She loved Jack.

Elizabeth couldn't fathom what he was thinking... Was he was aware of at that instant? Had she revealed everything with barely any speech? She wondered if he had seen Jack chained to the mast or knew her so well that he immediately realized that Elizabeth would even go to the most extreme action to save them. But he had turned away. He had completely turned away once he uttered that he knew of her sin...Meaning that she was not forgiven... Now Elizabeth was certain that she was forsaken.


	15. Chapter 15: Will's Intention

(OT: Pretty self explanatory. A necessary section, but definately not my favorite. My apologies for the short length.)

Will exited the brightly lit chamber, his left hand gripping the hilt of the saber slung at his hip. He realized he, the captain, and Elizabeth were the last persons to leave the shack, and he instinctively maneuvered around the lady to speak to Barbossa.

"How exactly will we travel to Singapore?" William asked as they began their short trek to the longboat.

Barbossa gestured to the Pantano River's winding path and through the dense foliage. "There be a ship worth commandeering just beyond the swamp."

"And what are our means of evacuating the ship?" Elizabeth inquired curiously, careening around Will's muscular figure. Captain Barbossa grinned impishly, chomping into a fresh green apple as he marched ahead of the two lovers. Silence was his answer, but Will was confident a scheme was lurking in the captain's mind, just as it did with Jack.

Will cast a final glance around the chamber, looking over Elizabeth's unfastened blonde locks, and he sighed as he took a few steps forward. The woman abruptly grasped his arm, yanking him backward before he began the descent. Will spun around quizzically with one eyebrow arched, wondering why she would wish to speak with him now, at an inopportune moment. They had not even exchanged brief comments to one another for three days.

"Will." Elizabeth's voice pitched back and forth. "I'm sorry about the way I spoke to you the other night. I was far too harsh, and I just…"

"It's fine," Will replied, his voice firm but gentle in the same breath. "I understand." Or at least, Will thought he comprehended the direction her heart had taken. He crossed his arms, gazing at Elizabeth and awaiting her reply, if there was to be one. The man wanted his beloved to make him even further understand the depth of her emotions, but he knew that it was an extremely slim chance she would open up to him.

"You understand…?" she repeated, which made Will squint in uncertainty. He attempted to interpret the expression in her eyes, but it failed him, just as it did every time they had talked since the kiss. She then added in an almost inaudible tone, "So you understand that I need time."

It wasn't a pledge to loving Jack...But Will did not expect a straight-forward confession from the woman, and he wasn't even certain if he could handle the impact of such a blow. With his frustration mounting by the minute, his stomach knotted and swirled. He wondered why this bewitching woman would not just end his suffering. How much time could Elizabeth require to realize that he was not her soul-mate? He returned his gaze to her plain countenance as he clarified even further.

"You desire time...To contemplate Jack." Will attempted to make the inquiry entirely specific, but his intention when awry with the first flush of her cheeks.

Elizabeth's lip quivered, and her taut expression revealed that her mind raged with self-loathing and her own questions. Elizabeth whispered in an incomprehensible voice and then faltered with the shake of her head. "Will," she nearly shrieked, her voice rising to a trilling resonance. "I don't want to talk about this!" She galloped past him, her arms pinned to her sides, and her eyes glistening with fresh tears.

Will was suctioned into oblivion. She did love Jack, but Will presently wondered if she was dealing with mixed emotions about him as well. Perhaps, his eyes glimmered at the thought, the cause was not lost…But then, she would have revealed more of her emotions if that was the case. Although Elizabeth stood before him, day after day and slept near him night after night, he could not bring himself to dedicate himself to the woman, not fully and freely as he used to. His father was out there, facing a fate worse than death, and those two priorities, one to save his father and the other to not lose Elizabeth, jerked him left and right. As Will climbed into the longboat alongside Captain Barbossa and Tia Dalma, he caught a glimpse of Elizabeth's clenched jaw, and he then stared out to the river and to the expansive sea. He would continue to press the issue against Elizabeth, but once he was assured that her opinion had formed, he would focus his energy on employing the _Black Pearl_ for his own purposes.


	16. Chapter 16: His Craftmanship

(OT: This is officially during AWE, on their trip to Singapore. Obviously, they are almost there. Here's a little hope from Will, but as usual, confusion bounds into the picture. I know it might feel like I'm pulling them back and forth and ending with the same product, but in my mind it is like Will and Elizabeth are attached to opposite ends of a bungee cord. Will tugs one way, and Elizabeth has slack, but is then pulled back by guilt, and then Elizabeth yanks again when she sees a small degree of her cruelty toward Will, but is eventually held in place by guilt, once again. Hopefully this makes a little sense. Anyway, next you will find out why exactly they needed a new ship from Sao Feng. After all, as these chapters state, they did have a ship... They had to have one to get to Singapore... But they lost it somehow... And of course, thanks for the reviews and encouragement. And sorry for the gaps. I've been very sick lately.)

William quietly descended the short staircase, aware that a few sailors were already slumbering, and slid around the crowded cargo. He shifted the large bundle in his arms as he padded through the chamber, squinting in the dim lamplight. He soon discovered the woman's still figure sitting upright in an ivory colored hammock.

Elizabeth lifted her eyes to the man's face as she slung her legs over the edge of the collapsible bed and noted the articles of clothing that he gripped with both hands. She also gazed at the object that was tucked under Will's arm, but her attention was brought back to his face when he spoke blandly.

"We will arrive in Singapore within a few days." Elizabeth scooted to one side of the hammock, as if to form a seat for the man, but Will remained standing. "Barbossa requests you wear these… As a disguise." He stepped forward and laid the pile of clothes beside her, avoiding eye contact. Will then grasped the large straw hat from under his arm and handed it to the woman, who promptly plopped it on her blonde head.

"How does it look?" she asked as the Asian hat tittered.

"A little large, but other than that you will blend in just fine."

"Good. I would hate to look silly." Elizabeth's smile vanished as she removed the hat and chucked it beneath the hammock. The pair gazed at one another in silence for a moment, and Will shifted his weigh from one foot to the other in uncertaintly. He considered leaving, but her gentle voice made him stay. "Promise me you'll be careful when you sneak into the temple." she said, imagining the horrors Will might face.

Will's eyes flared at her tender tone, invigorating his hope all the more that they could salvage their relationship. "I promise," Will replied in an identical tone.

"What is the vestment for?" Elizabeth inquired as she hoisted the black narrow vest into the air, slipping her fingers through the various pouches and slits.

"To conceal weapons… Pistols, knives, hand grenades…" Will averted his eyes, suddenly remembering his other purpose of visiting Elizabeth.

"Oh," Elizabeth answered softly. "Does Barbossa plan on blowing me to pieces?" It was a light hearted jest, but apprehension still lurked behind her voice and her remorseful brown eyes.

William veered around Elizabeth's hammock and began rummaging through heavy-laden crates as he responded, "He assumes they will not suspect a woman of treachery. Although, these foreign men don't seem the type to take risks."

Elizabeth rose from the bed, and the cool planks chilled her bare feet as she strolled over to Will's kneeling figure. "What are you doing?" she asked quizzically, but Mr. Turner was too preoccupied to reply.

He yanked a thin wooden box from one of the crates, and he waved for Elizabeth to follow him back into the light. She curiously observed him, and she crawled back into the warm hammock, wrapping her feet in a single wool blanket. After fingering the bronze hinges for a moment, Will offered the long package, and Elizabeth accepted it greedily, but paused to gaze at his frail eyes.

"Your birthday. It is tomorrow, if I'm not mistaken." he tenderly explained, with one hand still lingering on the container.

"Oh Will," she murmured. "You remembered." She slid her hands over the case, recognizing his craftmanship. He was so wonderful, but she did not deserve such a gift.

"How could I forget?"

Elizabeth immediately realized it was a rhetorical questions, and it yanked her heartstrings with the knowledge that she was causing or had caused him distress. She fiddled with the latch, partially wondering what it concealed while also wishing she had never accepted the gift.

"It's not much." Will attempted to explain his meager offering. "I just thought you might need one of your own…And if you dislike it, you don't--"

"Will," she interjected, tugging a glistening jian out of the container. "It is beautiful. You made this… for me." Elizabeth allowed the box to clatter to the floor as she turned the steel sword over in her palm, admiring the glinting blade.

"I saw them in the last market and decided it might be useful…They were once considered the most elegant and civilized of the Chinese weapons." Will abruptly cut off his speech, realizing how stupid he must sound. What are facts to Elizabeth? And yet, her eyes were alight and gazing into his, interested in his words and in the curve of his mouth. "I think every pirate needs their own sword. I realize it isn't the best gift… I'm sure it wasn't what you expected, but it was all I could do with our limited access to supplies."

Elizabeth bit her lip at the title-at the horrid brand-and nodded as she replied, "No, Will, it is wonderful." She winced uncontrollably, brushing her blonde locks behind her ears in nervousness.

Will noticed the woman's anxiety, but he refused to succumb to_ her_ concealed burden. The man outstretched his hand and slid his fingers up to the flat hilt, spinning it in Elizabeth's soft palm once more as he leaned toward her. "See," he said, tapping a spot on the narrow blade. "If you look here…"

Elizabeth felt her nerves grow taut at their proximity, and she considered scampering away or leaning out of his grasp, but instead, she raised the jian to eye-level to investigate his notion. There, at the base of the sword, were two initials engraved in a pretty cursive writing.

E.S.

She read the letters softly to herself and then repeated her own name as she traced the curled letters. "Elizabeth Swann…"

"You did this?" she asked, suddenly yearning to embrace Will for a present so lovely, but guilt locked her in place. He had created something for her… A precious sword that he must have known would mean so much more than the simplicity of a weapon.

"Of course," Will replied a little too eagerly. Their faces were extremely close, and her hot breath grazed his cheek, making Will's eyes blaze with vibrant memories of the good-natured past. As the man rose, he impetuously kissed Elizabeth's forehead, attempting to thwart her gaze of disgust or confusion.

She looked up to him, locking onto his gaze with such fierceness Will could not break away. "Thank you, Will." she said emphatically, impulsively clasping his hand for a brief moment. "It means more to me than you can imagine."

He nodded, now thoroughly confused, and then swiveled around, approaching the staircase in silence. "I do only want the best for you, Elizabeth. Whatever that might be." he announced softly, his head slightly sagging as his footsteps clomped against the staircase.


	17. Chapter 17: Revered Uncle's Temple

(OT: I apologize for the lack of updates and only this one chapter. I have mono, which is an awful sickness! Ulgh! It makes me very tired so I haven't had time to post. Well, here is your request. Will sneaking into the temple and wet Will. The next couple, that will hopefully be up soon, I apologize if they aren't, will concern the hours before this incident and switch to Elizabeth's point of view. I actually had a bit of fun writing the last few lines... You will see why. Enjoy!)

Will Turner's breathing was shallow, and his hands grew clammy as he fingered the lock, jamming various tools into the diminutive hole. He growled beneath his breath while praying to the dear Lord that no one happened upon him. If the plan was successful, Ragetti and Pintel would stall just long enough for him to enter the temple, filch the charts, and then return without injury.

He ducked behind crates of assorted cargo when he heard voices, eyeing them suspiciously as they passed him by. They wore button-up uniforms. The East India Trading Company's uniforms. What were they doing here? Will finally applied the proper leverage, popping the padlock's grip. The man scrambled to unfasten the smaller latch and then scurried through the window and into the expansive chamber, his head nearly spinning at the elaborate decorations. Drapes of crimson red and brilliant blues glimmered against the walls, but his eyes only focused on the left side of the room, where shelves upon shelves were stacked with rolled up scrolls. He cautiously slipped into the chamber, staying close to the wall with his hand on the hilt of his sword. He eased himself next to the shelves and then began searching for the certain fascinating parchment. Will breezed through history, recipes, anything imaginable. But it wasn't there. He continued sifting through the parchment, several unfurled scrolls lying around his feet and on the nearby table.

"Looking for this?"

William froze in place and then warily swiveled around, already whipping out his sabre. It was a Chinese man who towered in presence, his long black beard dropping onto his armor plated wardrobe. "Yes..." he replied softly as he realized that he was outnumbered. At least twelve men were blocking all entryways and several had a demon-possessed eye. And yet, dear William poised his sword, prepared for combat.

"Who sends you?"

"No one; I act by my own means." Will answered steadily, stepping closer to the chipped wooden table. "Who are you?" he inquired, almost casually, resting one hand upon the surface as he observed the man's curious tattoo that curved around his bald head.

"Sao Feng, Pirate Lord of Singapore." the Chinese man responded, but his spindly fingers were waving to his men. "Seize him!" Sao Feng abruptly shouted, swirling as he removed his own jian to protect the charts.

Men of all sizes charged toward William, their teeth gritted in infuriation at his intrusion and their swords suspended in equal competence. Will thrust the table onto two of the men, leaping over the piece of furniture as he made a break for Sao Feng and the door. Two men thwarted his attempted blows at the pirate lord, smacking Will across the face before lunging with their jians. Now struggling with consciousness, Will twisted on the floor, kicking two men in the groin before managing to bounce back to his feet. He grunted as he flung a short and stocky warrior against the wall, but yet another Chinese swordsman grasped his head, yanking on his ponytail and tossing him left and right. Will screeched as he was thrust to the floor, his own sabre was flung into another man's hands, and his eyes fluttered as the throbbing in his head increased. He heard Sao Feng's cruel cackle and his hot breath as he leaned over him.

"Take the boy to the bathhouse." Sao Feng commanded, grimacing at the lad's intrusion upon his revered uncle's temple.

"He tried to steal the charts. We should kill him!" A nearby Chinese man said, gazing at William over the pirate lord's shoulder.

"No," Sao Feng roared, lifting his hand as a red sash dangled at his wrist. "He has come by Barbossa's hand." The man spun around, gripping the charts with both equally filthy hands, and strode through a passage and into the sweltering spa-like surroundings.

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Will's eyes flickered lazily as he felt himself hoisted into the air by two burly and shirtless Chinese men. Voices drifted toward him, but they wouldn't register, the pulsating beat at the back of his brown head pumping out every last ounce of energy. Perhaps, it was a dream. Perhaps if he closed his eyes... No! Broiling water splattered his perturbed countenance as he was plunged into a large wooden tub, and he managed a quick yelp as he was dunked repeatedly, allowing him only seconds to consume oxygen. His entire body quivered from the shock as everything came into focus.

His calloused hands were bound against a wooden pole, strapped behind his head and making him immobile. Then, he realized he was in a bathhouse and a strange one at that. Men with fungi sprouting above and below their ears wandered aimlessly until they located a vacant spot in the steaming tubs, and he was alone, surrounded by menacing Chinese folk. Sao Feng sauntered toward him with the crimson sash at his musty nose, absorbing the faint aroma of the stale vapor.

"Ah, you have awaken." he announced with a certain tenderness, and his eyes lit like the fires of hell. "What are the charts to you?"

Will clamped his mouth shut. He had no intention of revealing anything to this revolting man... Or at least he supposed he was revolting. Barbossa had said little about Sao Feng, but this act of cruelty certainly didn't place Sao Feng on the good side of Mr. Turner. With a concise glance, Sao Feng nodded and Will felt his head plummeting into the scorching water once more. His face flushed with anger as he growled, "They will lead me to where I need to go." He answered snarkily, sputtering out excess droplets of water.

"Then..." Sao Feng replied with a sleight grin. "Captain Barbossa did send you?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"And what profit would he gain in stealing those charts?" Will inquired in a stable response, flipping back his soaked locks.

Sao Feng nodded again and Will was dunked beneath the calming water, except this time his head was held down longer.

"They have arrived."

What was that? The Chinese men allowed him to rise for a split second, where he saw Captain Barbossa and Miss Elizabeth Swann striding ever so self-consciously into the sultry atmosphere. She yanked down her translucent garb, still grumbling over her lack of clothes. Just as his mouth opened to scream her name or Barbossa's, Will was plunged beneath the surface. He rolled as the trio spoke placidly, but he heard her sweet voice. The voice of his Elizabeth. It was the voice of the woman who had embraced him ever so briefly before he departed to filch the mystical charts. The voice of hope. Bubbles popped out of his mouth as he wiggled under their grasp and writhed as much as possible. Finally, he arched his spine and was allowed to rise, gasping for air and not comprehending why Sao Feng was now stalking toward him. Oh, no. Oh no. Shit.


	18. Chapter 18: The Song

(OT: Let's rewind, ey? Elizabeth point of view. Keep in mind, Pintel and Ragetti headed off with Will at the last port to distract the guards while he snuck into the temple. Just a note because I do mention the number in the crew. Ah, not much else to say. Enjoy! Hopefully more to come soon! Oh, and I'm feeling better D)

The merchant vessel, the _Capsulet,_ cruised into Singapore's chaotic bay, dazzling men and women prancing around the premises. Elizabeth, dressed in her burdened disguise, leaned over the edge of the bow, observing the flashing rainbow lights and the raucous Chinese culture. She spun the large brimmed hat through her fingers after adjusting her braid a final time, thinking of Will and hoping that he had made it into the temple with ease.

"Cap'n!" Gibbs abruptly thundered up the staircase, and his voice became rapid and breathy. The captain, who was gripping the helm as he directed the ship toward the docks, squinted as Gibbs announced, "Cap'n there's a ship comin' up on her stern." Barbossa spun around to see not only one galleon, but one galleon and two zippy schooners veering around the _Capsulet_ on either side, their cannons already smoking.

"Break out the cannons, you rotting berks!" Barbossa bellowed, spinning the helm with a fervid fury.

Elizabeth flung herself to the floor, landing with a resonant clunk as hand grenades were chucked on the deck, and she growled beneath her breath. Not now. Not right when everything was going perfect! Cannons vibrated through the vessel and gaping holes fractured various parts of the _Capsulet_, the gun and cannons fire seemingly increasing in blows by the minutes. Leaving her Asian hat lying on the floor, Elizabeth slinked on her hands and knees and snarled to the captain, "They obviously think we are a real merchant vessel." He made no movement as she rose. "Surrender!" she cried. "There are too many!"

Barbossa shook his head, unwilling to submit to other pirates, but the crew was soon overwhelmed by the vast damage to the ship.

"Barbossa!" Gibbs now hollered as he reloaded a musket.

Elizabeth refused to wait any longer; she clambered down the nearest hatch, seized her dirty white blouse from her hammock, and crawled back up the staircase, collapsing to her feet more than once from the blows and her laden garments. Narrowly missing zinging bullets, Elizabeth securely tied the sleeves around a spare rope and hoisted the make-shift (white) flag into the air, releasing a brazen sigh.

The firing almost immediately halted as the crew of the mighty galleon boarded the _Capsulet,_ his eyes alight with victory. Barbossa retreated from the helm and gripped Miss Swann's slender covered arm as he fumingly inquired, "What do ye think your doin'?"

"Saving our lives!" she roared as the captain of the other vessel approached them with his chin tilted to the glorious triumph.

His beady black eyes observed their heated discourse, and his hideous wrinkles curled around his lips as he removed his sword from its sheath and asked, "You surrender?"

"No!" Barbossa shouted, glowering at the young woman.

"Yes!" Elizabeth cried in unison with the captain, freeing her arm from his avid grasp. Slithering into the repugnant man's face, she replied with a furious scorch to her tone, "You saw the flag, Sir. Leave us our weapons and one longboat and the vessel is yours."

"This be my ship." Barbossa interjected, but Elizabeth was offering her broken nails, and her eyes did not waver against the two captains.

Oh, the nerve! To still insist that he had control over this situation. Elizabeth had raised the surrendering colors and she would stand by the statement. She hissed to Captain Barbossa, "We are in Singapore, meaning we can request a ship from one of your acquaintances."

The captain of the galleon, gazing at Elizabeth inquisitively the entire time, accepted the offering and gripped the lady's hand with intensity. After assembling their small group of six and (recovering her hat), the _Capsulet's_ crew was lowered in a single longboat and stroked toward the shore. "You had no right," Barbossa growled, infuriated at Elizabeth successful bargain.

"In fact," she scowled in an equally intimidating tone. "We could all be dead if it weren't for my intrusion." Her sneering remark silenced the captain as Cotton and Mr. Gibbs rowed through the calm waters, listening to the vibrant vibrations of the city. Moments later, Elizabeth swiveled left and right, her eyes twitching in agitation. "Do you hear that?" she inquired, every sound becoming a bit more acute.

"I don't hear anything." Marty absent-mindedly commented, his stubby legs awkwardly poking out of the seat.

"No, it's..." she trailed off to listen more closely. "It is getting louder." Elizabeth couldn't decipher its origin nor what exactly the noise was. Then, it became trilling and echoed within the crew's ears.

_The bell has been raised from its watery grave _

_Hear its sepulchral tone _

_We're a call to hall _

_Pay heed the squall _

_And turn your sail to home... _

"The song," Gibbs announced in a solemn tone while taking a swig off his canteen. "It's been sung."

The voice continued, swelling in the woman's throat and enveloping the vivacious city. Elizabeth glanced to Tia Dalma, who had been silent for more than two days, and her eyes were quivering from anxiety. She watched the Jamaican woman closely, eyeing her as she removed crab claws from her bosom and rattled them in her hands. A delectable inky grin spread across her countenance for a brief moment, obviously recognizing something the crew had missed or not yet seen and then the expression disappeared, leaving Elizabeth mystified. What did that woman know? And what powers did she hold in the palm of her hands? Literally and figuratively, of course. Elizabeth was then distracted, averting her gaze to listen once again to the song.

_Yo ho haul together _

_Hoist the colors high _

_Heave ho, thieves and beggars... _

_Never shall we die _

"Being sung more like it." Elizabeth added fervently, absorbing every arc of the pitch. It was a woman's voice that was soft and shrill at the same time and resonating in the woman's aching heart. "What does it mean?" she inquired, now curious of Gibbs' strange and miserable declaration.

"It beckons the pirate lords from the corners of the earth." Barbossa answered for him, flicking a piece of eight and raising it to Miss Swann's ear.

The tone tingled her entire body at the gravity of the tune, and she glanced at both men. Gibbs had nothing to add, and Barbossa was now scrambling to help tug the longboat ashore. The crooning finally yielded, although the spirit still remained, and Elizabeth began humming the melancholy tune, occasionally closing her eyes to recollect the lyrics.

"We separate here." Barbossa announced, nodding to each crew member and knowing everyone was aware of the plan. The men and bayou woman immediately split, but Elizabeth lingered near the docks, the tune still buzzing on her lips. Something archaic vibrated in those lyrics, and the more the words echoed in her mind, the more she realized their meaning. Calypso was the cause.

As Elizabeth strolled into the city, the abodes began to drop and rise into brilliant bamboo structures, and she noticed Sao Feng's bathhouse, as it had been described to her, lay far ahead. She suddenly bound behind a small shack by the ushering of an elderly Chinese woman, shushing her in the foreign language. Ah, Elizabeth thought, soldiers. They marched in single file past them, and she began to realize that she would not be able to casually approach the bathhouse. After thanking the elderly woman by a quick squeeze on the hands, Elizabeth slipped through the crowds, slithering past oblivious soldiers, and stepping onto creaky docks and ducking beneath her large hat. The long canoe-like boat was vacant, and Elizabeth quickly clambered into the vehicle, her breath short from the burst of energy. Now she could just... Fireworks catapulted overhead and exploded in the air, sending Elizabeth in a frenzy at the sudden movement. The air had been even stiller than she had originally thought, and she now paddled through the waters gently, eyeing her surroundings and resuming her humming of the tune.

_Some have lived and others have died_

She crooned softly, but then allowed her voice to swell with the quake of the river, rowing around long and spindly bamboo poles with a single oar and swallowing her fear that someone would explode her boat.

_Others sail on the sea _

Elizabeth entered a small bay coated in a thin layer of fog, and it sent chills creeping up her spine. A sinking feeling in her stomach now alarmed her that something was ahead and something was amiss. What about Will? But she kept singing confidently, observing every motion with caution.

_With the keys to the cage _

_And the devil to pay _

_We lay to Fiddler's Green _

_The bell has been raised from its watery grave _

Her eyes swiveled to the platforms, where East India Trading Company soldiers clattered above, signaling their simple orders and their menacing appearance. She could be caught. She would be caught... If she was not careful.

_Hear its sepulchral tone _

Still looking to the bridge and to the horrid coats that imprisoned her and her fiancé so long ago... How long had it been? A few weeks? A month or two? Her memory failed her. She had been so consumed by this wretched guilt... Did it even make a difference how long she had suffered? She ducked her eyes again.

_We're a call to hall _

_Pay heed the squall _

Damn those fireworks. They sizzled above her in a bright white light, unwillingly bringing her purpose back into focus. She swiveled her head, catching a brief glimpse of the person who had lit them and quivering from the glimmering scowl upon his face as he scurried across the bridge.

_And turn your sail to home... _

A nearby man (or was it a woman?) chopped and skinned fish, sliding the scales to the side with a resolute frown as she glided past him. The final sparks scattered into the water, and she sat up a little straighter, knowing that she would be approaching the edifices any moment now. She must keep her head. Keep her strength. Keep her will to bring back Jack and settle any kiaughs between them.

_Yo ho haul together _

_Hoist the colors high _

_Heave ho... _

The woman looped the rope about the dock's stem, inhaling a breath for the next line as she crawled from the boat placidly. She looked hither and thither for soldiers. Keep her head. Keep her...

Elizabeth halted. An intimidating Chinese man uttered the next lines, his words separated and distinct, and his filthy gritty exterior shining in the little light. "Thieves and beggars, never shall we die." He stalked toward her with reinforcements behind him, glaring at her silly disguise. She now questioned the bulky cloak and fingered the little razor-sharp dagger tucked in at her hip. "A dangerous song to be singing for anyone who is ignorant of its meaning." he declared with a certain fury, eyeing her curiously. "Particularly a woman." he paused to eye her even more closely. "Particularly a woman alone."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something. Now she was in a stupid jam. Stupid girl to sing, she thought. Quite a pickle indeed, she had once said to Will to mock him during a fencing session. She withdrew the dagger with a quick movement; no one had seen it. As she prepared to raise it to his throat, her exterior entirely calm, the captain's voice and heavy footsteps clunked against the stone steps.

"What makes you think she's alone?"


	19. Chapter 19: Singapore

(OT: Well, this is for your pleasure. The Singapore scene, from top to bottom, straight from the script that I personally typed out from the subtitles and youtube haha.(Next one will include the brief moment between the pair when Will returns to the crew and says that he has the charts. Except... It will be lengthed D) It is a bit of a novelization this time, with a few extra notes that is. So much more angst to come, and a little admiration for Elizabeth from Will. It's a long one! Enjoy!)

Elizabeth deposited the various weapons off her person, seizing a few from the captain to situate them as well. All was going as planned. Nothing had gone terribly amiss since their unfortunate attack in the bay, and she barely kept herself from smiling as she stepped forward.

"You think just because she is a woman, we would not suspect her of treachery?" Tai Huang inquired, holding up the palm of his filthy hand.

"Well," Barbossa replied diffidently. "When you put it that way…" His eyes rolled over to Elizabeth, who sighed in exasperation.

"Remove, please." the Chinese man ordered, his eyes greedily observing her waif figure.

Wonderful. That is the last time she would ever think they were free to go without a warrant to search. With menacing eyes locked onto the man, the woman untied the wide Asian hat, allowing it to drop to the floor. She had advised Will and Barbossa that it would not work if they attempted to conceal weapons, but no, they wouldn't listen to the lady, even though she was the most pirate of them all.

Elizabeth split the cloak apart, partially vexed by this command, and she thrust the article of clothing into another man's face, pursing her lips together as her black vest of weapons was revealed. Removing the tucked in pistols, she placed the arsenal of weapons on the table, piling one on top of another. She slipped off the thin black vestment, now yanking an inky black grenade out of her belt and popping it in the air before adding it to the mound. Elizabeth opened her mouth and held up her index finger. Oh, one more; she almost forgot. Bending backward and making her translucent blue shirt rise above her torso, Elizabeth detached the leather straps from her leg and yanked out the huge gun. She pursed her lips innocently, shrugging as she glanced at Barbossa's rolling eyes. She stepped forward, but Tai Huang held up his hand once more. What could he possibly want now?

The Chinese man's eyes lit up and instructed, "Remove." He paused to ogle her pretty countenance. "Please."

Elizabeth's mouth gaped open and she gazed down at her trousers in shock. No, he couldn't make her! The man's fine eyebrows bounced as he skimmed her genially. She cast a fleeting look to Barbossa, who shrugged and sighed in vain. What could they do? "I promise," she proclaimed, patting her legs as she did so. "I'm not concealing any other weapons."

Now every foreign man was glowering at her, eager to see the woman's body and also recognizing the fact that this woman, Miss Elizabeth Swann, had no power here. "Fine!" she screeched irately, unfastening the identical blue belt that looped about her waist to hold up the men's breeches. Elizabeth allowed the black trousers to crumple at her feet, and after readjusting the length of her high-neck blue shirt, she tugged the clothing over her derriere, knotted the belt at her hips, and made the blouse into a very indecent skirt. The woman snarled a crude comment to Tai Huang, gripping the hem of her dress as she shoved forward into the stifling warm bathhouse alongside Captain Barbossa.

"Captain Barbossa," Sao Feng swiveled around, coated in a thin layer of steam with two identical twin concubines standing silently on either side. "Welcome to Singapore." The lord brought the long crimson red sash to his nose, adoring the stagnant aroma. "More steam." He commanded to one of the lovely black-haired ladies as he stepped off the slightly raised platform. "I understand you have a request to make of me."

"More of a proposal to put to ye," the pirate replied, alluding gently to his scheme. "I've a venture underway, and I find myself in need of a ship and a crew."

Elizabeth observed the exchange closely, peering around Captain Barbossa's shoulder. She forgot her indecency, now eyeing the Chinese man's long narrow black beard, equally elongated mustache, and elaborate dragon tattoo on the side of his gritty bald head. She admired his armored clothing for a moment, observing the distinct patterns and Chinese figures spiraled across the robe. She had heard of his fierceness, not only from Barbossa's brief description, but also from Mr. Gibb's narrations and Pintel's additive remarks. The exact level of power was extremely high, by her count, but Elizabeth stood with her head held high, listening in an intrigued, but mild countenance.

Sao Feng scratched his head, the sash dangling against his prominently scarred cheeks, and he responded, as if in thought, "It is an odd coincidence."

"Because you happen to have a ship and crew you don't need?" Elizabeth earnestly inquired, but was quickly glared at by the pirate lord of the South China Sea. Her eyebrows cocked again in partial apology, attempting to remember her "place" and stay on guard.

"No," the menacing man answered. "Because earlier this day, not far from here, a thief broke in my most revered uncle's temple and tried to make off with these." He whipped the navigational charts from a nearby canister and displayed them to the pair. "The navigational charts... The route to the farthest gate." He tossed the charts to a Chinese man as he inquired mockingly, "Wouldn't it be amazing if this venture of yours took to the world beyond this one?"

Barbossa's eyes widened, but he remained composed. "It would strain credulity at that."

A small sough escaped Elizabeth's throat, only reaching Barbossa's ears as Sao Feng nostrils flared. Something wasn't quite right. What did he know? Or rather, what did they _not_ know? Sao Feng turned his head to the wooden tubs and nodded concisely to two shirtless men guarding one large steaming container. Will burst from the broiling water, his hair whipping behind his head and his maroon v-neck blouse seeping with water. Elizabeth's eyes bulged at the shock. How long had Will been under? A few seconds? A minute or two? More? It made her tremble at the thought of her Will suffocating… Then again, he wasn't hers anymore, was he? Elizabeth abruptly flushed with anger and wondered why he had volunteered to steal the charts. She should have sneaked into the temple and left Will and Barbossa to meet with the pirate lord. But she had allowed him to run off and do everything himself.

Oh, no. Oh no. Shit. Now he his vision was no longer blurred; Sao Feng came into focus, as did his beloved and the captain of the _Capsulet_. The realization that he had been caught… That all of this was his fault, plunged to the pit of his whirring stomach. With the men still gripping the pole the prisoner was attached to, Will writhed a little as the pirate lord marched toward him, his eyes flaming with an avid fury.

Elizabeth's mouth gaped open as Sao Feng gestured to the intruder smugly. He then gripped the boy's moist brown locks, holding his head in place as he announced, "This is the thief. Is his face familiar to you?" Elizabeth and Barbossa shook their heads, unaware of the consequence of that simple motion. The woman watched in horror as Sao Feng removed a spearhead from his robe and directed it toward Will's throat. Will's face diffused with fear and anxiety. He couldn't just allow himself to be caught, but they were all unarmed. The man had thought Gibbs and the crew were supposed to be below the floorboards, but obviously they had not realized that things were not going the way they planned. "Then I guess," Sao Feng announced, his eyes swiveling from one group to another. "He has no further need for it."

As the sharp tip plummeted toward Will's gullet, Elizabeth gasped, "No! No!" quickly as she covered her mouth with both hands, the long sleeves draping over her slender fingers. It had been an automatic reaction, and Will gazed at the woman in bewilderment; he hadn't expected such a squeal. Sao Feng retracted the dagger and replaced it on his belt as Elizabeth's clenched fists lowered from her mouth. Ah, she could see satisfaction spread across the man's face.

Barbossa weakly expressed, "Sao Feng, I assure you I had no idea…"

"That he would get caught!" the lord angrily shoved into the captain's face, grimacing at the man. All at once, mostly shirtless Chinese men leapt from the tubs, trickling water as they crowded around Barbossa and Elizabeth. "You intend to attempt a voyage to Davy Jones' locker." Elizabeth attempted to shove forward; she would inform that man just what their voyage concerned. But Barbossa held out his arm, thwarting her step. "And I can't help but wonder…" He trailed off as he spun around and raised his hand as he ascended the platform and inquired, "Why?"

Barbossa immediately drew his piece of eight and tossed it to the pirate lord. Sao Feng caught the coin with ease, instantly hoisting it to his ear and listening to the distinct piercing ringing tone. "The song has been sung," Barbossa replied as he stepped forward. "The time is upon us. We must convene the Brethren Court. As one of the nine pirate lords, you must honor the call."

Sao crumpled the piece of eight in his palm and commanded, "More steam." A few seconds passed, and puffs of the gas did not emerge. "More steam!" he shouted, and one of the strumpets rapidly tugged on the lever again. "There is a price on all our heads." He spun on the platform, directing his remarks to William. "It is true; it seems the only way a pirate can turn a profit anymore is by betraying other pirates."

Elizabeth inquisitively listened, while turning to her loved one, and hoped that he was not burning nor chilling in the tub of water. He was breathing heavily, and they briefly locked gazes. "We'll get you out." she mouthed, and Will released a slight smile. It slit into her heart; she imagined he had something already forming.

"There was a time when a pirate was free to make his own way in the world, but our time is comin' to an end. Our enemies have united, and have vowed to destroy us. The first Brethren Court gave us rule of the seas, but now that rule is being challenged by Lord Cutler Beckett!" Barbossa was as equally fervent about retrieving Jack from the land of the dead as Elizabeth acted.

Sao Feng replied solemnly, "Against the East India Company, what value is the Brethren Court?" He raised his voice as he asked boisterously, "What can any of us do?"

Elizabeth shoved forward, breezing past Captain Barbossa. What a coward! To think that any act would be futile! There was still time. There was her father… There was Port Royal…And there was Jack Sparrow to save. "You can fight!" she threw aside the Chinese man's calloused hand. "Get off me!" she commanded as she bounded forward to confront the man face-to-face. "You are Sao Feng! Pirate lord of Singapore. You command in the Age of Piracy where bold captains sail free waters; where waves aren't measured in feet, but in increments of fear, and those who pass the test become legend." Her lip curled in mounting infuriation. She could not allow him to just stand by! She had to rescue them the right way, not by murdering another man. "Would you have that era end on your watch?" she asked, her voice quavering with the thought of leaving without those damn charts. "The most notorious pirates from around the world uniting against our enemy and yet you sit here _cowering_ in your bathwater." She watched his chin tilt up at her courage, but a small flame danced in his eyes as he stepped forward. Elizabeth stepped in reverse, realizing the harshness of her words and his surrounding power as he circled her like a dog.

"Elizabeth Swann," he said gently, eyeing her thick legs and narrow nose. "There is more to you than meets the eye, isn't there? And the eye… Does not go wanting."

Her expression relaxed, now filling with fear of what this man could do after considering how she had been forced to strip off her outer garments. Will twitched, his hands writhing beneath the ropes. He realized the desire that lay unslaked in Sao Feng's glowing eyes; he had witnessed it swell when they had come into focus minutes ago.

"But I cannot help but notice you have failed to answer my question." Sao Feng gestured to Willaim, who still wriggled beneath the grip. "What is it you seek in Davy Jones' Locker?"

Will cleared his throat and announced, "Jack Sparrow." He paused when the girls giggled, but they halted their chortling upon notice. Yes, he would reach Elizabeth through that pirate. It was his plan. He was relying upon him. His eyes swiveled to Elizabeth's face and witnessed a brief look of horror vibrate along her lips. She was affected by the name. "He is one of the pirate lords," Will added indignantly.

Sao Feng scratched his scalp again, strolling over to one of the wall's beam and directing his gaze to a few of his trusted men. "The only reason I would want Jack Sparrow returned from the dead... Is so I can send him back myself!" The pirate lord thrust out his foot, kicking over an empty barrel as he growled.

Captain Barbossa marched over to Sao Feng, and Elizabeth checked Will's countenance as the man held up his index finger and narrated, "Jack Sparrow holds one of the nine pieces of eight. He failed to pass it on to a successor before he died, so we must go and get him back."

Sao Feng gazed at a Chinese man's bare back, and he watched the signature tattoo melting and dribbling down his back. "So you admit…" Sao declared in a tight-jawed tone. "You have deceived me." He whipped his red sash and his sword from his belt as he hollered, "Weapons!"

Barbossa stepped backward alongside Elizabeth as men erupted from all angles with their swords poised, prepared for bloody combat. "Sao Feng," Barbossa replied in an almost apologetic tone. "I assure you, our intentions are strictly honorable." He and Elizabeth outstretched their hands, and four swords catapulted through the boards' slots and the pair promptly caught them. Elizabeth and Barbossa allowed smiles to creep at the corners of their mouth, proud of the maneuver. Will grimaced even though he admired the strategy, wondering how they would manage to battle more than twenty men.

The lord of the China Sea gripped the betrayer's shoulders, spinning him and holding the long sword to the spy's throat. "Drop your weapons or I kill the man!" he shouted, his eyes twitching from the woman and the captain. They both appeared puzzled, and Elizabeth glanced at Will, curious if he knew who this Chinese man was. He showed no sign of recognition, and Barbossa was already replying.

"Kill him; he's not our man."

Will's eyes now widened, realizing the gravity of this spy's appearance. "If he's not with you," he noted, watching Barbossa spin around. "And he's not with us, who's he with?"

With an explosive roar, the East India Trading Company soldiers barged down the delicate bamboo screens with their muskets raised and slammed through the various entryways. Everyone now switched sides; Barbossa swirled in position, slitting a few men's throat as he forced his way through the chaos. Will thrust out of the Chinese men's grip and bent at the waist, allowing a soldier to slice the binding. He swung the wooden pole left and right, but it was soon bashed from his hands. Now weaponless, he glanced around weakly, quickly surveying the area for a fallen armed soldier. He ducked as Elizabeth shouted his name.

"Will!" cried she, tossing one of the sabres through the air and into her beloved's hand. He nodded as he caught the sword, participating in the battle as he attempted to make a break for the door. Elizabeth swiveled from side to side, growling as she thrust her sword maliciously, her eyes boring into the blue-buttoned militia. Elizabeth paused as the soldiers assembled, but was stunned in place when Mercer cocked his little pistol, aiming for her forehead. Her mouth gaped open, and her feet were unfortunately planted.

Will panicked, dropping his sword to his side as he leapt in front of Elizabeth, diving toward the woman and saving her from the gunshot. With one hand firmly pressed against her thin waist, Will escorted Elizabeth through the throng. "Will, this is madness!" she feebly proclaimed in a hiss, gripping his free hand lightly. He squeezed her hand as they paused in the doorway beside Barbossa and Sao Feng, their eyes bulging in one foul swoop as soldiers lined in orderly rows to fire upon them. A bomb suddenly exploded beneath the floorboards, sending squirting blood and gory bodies spiraling in all directions as the crew of the Black Pearl clambered from the pit. Sao Feng hollered and the four members separated, but Elizabeth remained close to Will. With one hand still sliding up and down her torso, Will guided Elizabeth until they were in the middle of the grating swarm, avoiding various bullets and fireworks. They were abruptly separated, but they knew it was for the best for the moment, charging with a final glance into Singapore's warped streets.


	20. Chapter 20: Guiding Grip

(OT: Rather short, but this chapter took me an entirely separate direction. More to come involving the Hai Peng, meaning right after this moment on board the ship, and why Elizabeth is the ONLY one who has a blanket when everyone is equally covered and equally cold. And perhaps you'll find out the origin of her black piratey clothing...)

Out of breath but unharmed, Will trotted along the docks with a crowd of musty Chinese men huddled behind him. Tai Huang offered a few directions to the the man, pointing to a small harbor to the far left. Will charged forward with the charts slung across his back, knawing on his forming scheme. When he espied the crew of the _Black Pearl_ gathering in the distance, William wondered if he should tell Elizabeth about the impending betrayal. But then again, this betrayal was directly related to Jack, so how could he tell her of his plans? Images of the woman rejecting the idea and revealing the masquerade to the crew flashed across his mind. No, if she loved him... It would be futile to inform her.

As he approached the creaky stretch of docks, Barbossa heaved out several breaths as he inquired vehemently, "You have the charts?" Tia Dalma slithered beside the man, gazing at Will in an equally intrigued countenance.

"And better yet." Will's voice rumbled as he replied, "A ship and a crew." Men emerged from behind him, gesturing to the new vessel as his eyes swiveled over to Elizabeth's quizzical appearance.

Elizabeth's eyes twitched at Will's confident tone, catching his final announcement. Although his mouth was fixed in a slight grimace, his eyes were weary as he glanced at the foreign crew. She pondered the sudden alliance with these revolting men who they had previously fought in the bathhouse. Why would they support them now, when their Pirate Lord wasn't even on the premises? "Where's Sao Feng?" she inquired abuptly, her mouth gaping open in mounting curiosity.

Will had mildly rehearsed his answer during his battled travel to the bay. "He'll cover our escape and meet us at Shipwreck Cove."

"This way! Be quick!" One of the men shouted, issuing the command with the wave of his hand.

Barbossa and Tia Dalma accepted this response, but Elizabeth lingered, now more curious than before. He was lying; she could see it in his eyes. Will was hiding something and directly chose not to tell any of them... But he did still have a chance to inform her or hint at the concealed scheme in secret. She watched his stern brown eyes collapse into a soft exterior as he stepped forward. She spun toward the vessel, whose Captain was already at the helm, and she felt his rough hand slide over her lower back, nearly stroking her slight curves.

"Are you all right?" Will asked, automatically gripping her waist a little tauter. The woman's gaze met his after glancing at her hips, and Will instinctively withdrew his calloused hand, realizing she felt uncomfortable under his grip. He had only meant to remain close so that he would measure her answers in tune with the body language, but he had obviously crossed the line in those few seconds. And then, he could only recollect Jack's hands gliding over her body and up to her beautifully constructed face. Will shook his head, turning to her with a slightly anxious expression.

"I'm fine..." Elizabeth released the response gently, suddenly halting in her tracks. "Will! Watch out!" She grabbed the man's dangling arm, yanking him several feet backward and bounding into his embrace as they crouched close to the floor. A sizzling grenade exploded, sending sparks zinging in all directions as smoke gradually engulfed the air.

As the atmosphere cleared, Will realized her cheek was pressed against his shoulder, and her limbs were trembling. Forgetting the previous boundary, he caressed her arm, and his hand glided up to her throat. "Thank you," he whispered as his fingertips continued to slope up to her cheek. She did not retract her grip, her figure still compressed against his, and Will allowed a little smile to emerge. "Did any of the sparks strike you?"

"No, no," Elizabeth repeated, clenching her knees together as she realized her bare bottom half was fully exposed, the short skirt flipped over her thighs. Will's eyes did not leave her face at the movement, his fingers now tracing her bone structure. "We don't want to fall behind." she murmured as she rose out of his grasp, her hand still on his covered arm. Every ache of guilt smacked her as the chilly night air grazed her skin where Will's body was beforehand. The warmth was gone and so was the warmth of her posture. She helped him to his feet, but he would not release her wincing hand.

The grenade had left a large gaping crevice in the docks, and Will finally released his beloved's hand as he flung himself across the hole. The man then offered both hands and was able to grip her torso, lifting her light figure to the other side. Face to face once again with their shuddering breath mingling together, Elizabeth wiggled from his grasp and trotted up the ramp, passing Pintel and Ragetti on the way. Will quickly pursued her, and she turned to see his blank expression. "Will," she whispered, moving a step closer. "What are you hiding?"

"Nothing." he answered rapidly, his stiff posture telling a different tale. "Everything is fine."


	21. Chapter 21: Veil of Secrecy

(OT: One step forward, one step back. It's like they're doing a dance except they keep stepping on each others feet... or rather boots. Although, I did involve a certain humorous bit with Will, nothing extreme, but after my sister told me a similar story... I couldn't resist, mate. Sorry for not including the blanket-sunrise-sunset bit. I just felt this needed its own section...And I reallly should be working on my paper. Haha, but pirates is so much more fun!)

"I don't believe you," Elizabeth hissed, her eyes narrowing as she steadied her tone. "Do you want to talk... alone?" If he wouldn't reveal the reason behind his veil of secrecy... How could they ever recover? Elizabeth tilted her head at her own thoughts, realizing it was the first time that she had thought that she and Will could mend their disputes. But then, that sinking feeling plunged into her stomach and swamped her mind as she remembered the remorseful taste of her own poison. The woman had managed to savor every trace of Jack's flavor when they had kissed, and she had meshed with ulterior motives, except it had developed into an unsuccessful facade. His words had burned her... While her own bitter speech had barely grazed against him.

Will shook his head as he came to recognize that Elizabeth knew the darkest patterns of his mind. "No," he answered softly, thwarting the inquiry. "There is nothing to talk about." Briefly touching her shoulder, they strolled to the port side of the _Hai Peng,_ and Will subconsciously squeezed the cool railing, gazing to the sea as they cruised out of the bay while Sao Feng's fleet masked their escape.

"Not even your father?" Elizabeth asked hesitantly, managing to not sound wounded by his abstruseness. He had attempted to uncover her heart back at Tai Dalma's shack, and now she was doing the same to him with far less intensity.

"Why would I want to talk to _you_ about my father when I haven't before?" It was delivered with a ruthless singe that made Elizabeth flinch, and he immediately regretted his sharpness. He hadn't meant for it to emerge so piercingly. Will quickly restored his concerned voice as he added with a glance at her shapely bare legs, "Why don't you go below and look for other clothing? Barbossa said the venture will take us to the most climatic of places."

Elizabeth grimaced at the comment, intentionally interpreting his heavy voice harshly. "I was only trying to... Nevermind."

" Elizabeth," he pleaded, remorse striking them both again.

How could they make it stop? Will believed it would end by divulging who she loved, while her heart dared to believe that once they rescued Jack, everything would be fine. But honestly, her mind was not so childish. She knew that his rescue could not mend every bridge that they burned along the way. It would not bring her forgiveness nor would the act ever be forgotten. She was branded as a deceitful pirate, and redemption seemed so far from reach; perhaps it was now dangling from the ledge, teetering between worlds, just like their journey.

Unwilling to listen, the woman released a little hum, and although he looked at her as if he had something to say, she spun around, and her frayed braid whipped across her shoulder as she trotted up a few steps toward the crusty bow of the ship where Tia Dalma drummed the railing, her dense black dreadlocks framing her slightly smudged face. "There is no place left for Sao Feng to cower," she noted as she cast her eyes to the rail. Elizabeth lifted her eyes when the bayou woman stayed silent and asked with her voice full of hope, "Do you think he will honor the call?"

"I cannot say," Tia Dalma replied with a little shake of the head, watching the waves roll beneath the drifting junk. With a vigorous tension she uttered archly, "There is an evil on dese seas dat even de most staunch and bloodthirsty pirates have come fear."

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Only hours later, they docked in a small city, and nearly every member was assigned a mission while in the city. Elizabeth volunteered to purchase new weapons and canteens, after surveying the Hai Peng's limited supplies. After situating her personalized jian along her hip, the woman sauntered away with a quick nod to the men, confident in her tread. Will stepped toward the captain as he announced, "I have my own business to attend to."

"And what business could this pertain to, Master Turner?" Barbossa inquired, his grungy arms draped over the wheel with one eyebrow arched in curiosity.

Remaining composed due to the innocent nature, Will replied steadily, "Nothing that will affect our journey." He watched the man's lip curl slightly beneath his scraggily graying beard, and a Chinese man promptly gripped his shoulder.

"I will come with you," he announced with a fleeting glance at Barbossa, relying on the alliance. "To make certain you do not betray Sao Feng." the man growled in Will's ears as he swiveled on his heels and followed Elizabeth's trail for a short while before veering into the entryway of a vibrantly decorated shop with a greased banner.

"Excuse me," William raised his voice as he leaned over the counter, patting it impatiently. The Chinese man shouted an indistinct but seemingly impertinent command, and a flushed plump Asian woman bustled out of the back room. Golden yellow dragons spiraled across her crisscrossed blue robes, and Will smiled slightly as he glanced at the surrounding girls who gazed at the handsome William in obvious admiration. "Perhaps you can translate?" The Chinese man nodded. "First, please tell her I need small trousers."

After translating the message, the woman's tan cheeks reddened as she murmured something back to the man. She spun around, her wide hips sloshing from side to side as she retrieved the order. As the woman returned from the back room, she cautiously hoisted two pairs of pants in the air and pointed to them.

"No!" Will screeched, waving his hands around hastily when he saw the clothing dangling in the air for the entire world to see. Indeed, the shopkeeper had retrieved small trousers… Except, they were in the form of pale white knickers and baby blue lined bloomers. "No, not those. Not those." Completely embarrassed that he had requested the wrong thing, Will's cheeks flushed with color, and his eyes widened as the young women in the shop chortled in enjoyment of the spectacle. Taking a step back from the counter, Will lifted his loose maroon bloused and tugged at the waistband of his black trousers. "These...I want these type of trousers. I meant a 'small' size... Not... small...Um…attire or um..." His thoughts muddled with thoughts of Elizabeth's undergarments, Will was unable finish the sentence. The Chinese man joined in on the laugh, leaning over the counter as he explained to the shop owner that it was not exactly what Mr. Turner desired.

"Anything else you want?" the man inquired with a sly glance over his shoulder. "You should be... Specific."

"Yes, yes," Will now yearned to wipe the clustered beads of sweat from his forehead and depart from the store. "Um...I need a vestment for myself and a blouse and belt to go along with the trousers."

"A _small_ blouse?" The man chuckled, jesting with the still-flustered Will.

William missed the joke, only nodding in return. The man placed the order and within moments, the embarrassed color had vanished from the busty woman's face, realizing it was all a misunderstanding, and Will began pacing as the young women lingered in his presence, whispering in their foreign language as they hid behind their delicately embroidered fans. Mr. Turner received the button-down ebony black vest happily and quickly slung it over both arms as he thanked the woman repeatedly. Eager to escape, he refused to have the clothing wrapped and tucked Elizabeth's new wardrobe beneath his arm. He headed back to the _Hai Peng_, where Elizabeth was transferring the canteens to each man and halted her in mid-stride. She gazed at Will's new long vest, nodding in approval, and then handed him a bottle of water. He removed the clothes from his underarm and planted them in her palms. "For you," he announced without a trace of a smile.

"Oh, thank you." Elizabeth responded as she flipped through the short stack, examining the exquisitely braided sash and the dark articles of clothing.

Will nodded to avoid pursuing a conversation, realizing he had nothing to say that wasn't absorbed in weighted words and slithered past her shoulders, leaving Elizabeth in a partially confused state, wondering why he hadn't even attempted a brief conversation. She looked after him and then continued in her trek, pausing to hand out the last of the water containers.


	22. Chapter 22: Frozen in their Ways

(OT: I enjoyed writing this chapter. Is started out as one from Elizabeth's point of view, intended to be short, and then it just expanded into Will's musings and all the way through the scene. Parts of the almost-end bit is actually from the final leaked AWE script. It actually was in the place of the "How long do we continue not talking" scene between Will and Elizabeth, but as you can tell, they replaced it with a much vaguer answer. I rearranged a few things and really wanted the resolution line so I squeezed it in here. So much frustration in the end! The next chapter will involve a cut scene that is also in the leaked script, in addition to the scene I just mentioned . Enjoy! And thank you thank you for the reviews. It really makes me want to update all the time and I wish I could. Fortunately, we had a snow day today!)

Elizabeth huddled on the steps at the bow of the ship, gripping her knees to her chest and repeatedly rubbing her freezing hands together. She lifted her palms to her mouth and blew gently, allowing her hands to absorb her hot breath. She massaged her thin yet muscular arms, suddenly wanting to praise Will for purchasing the new clothes. With a gust of arctic wind, her partially pinned up hair flew over her shoulders, exposing her neck and cheeks and making her quiver with a fresh chill. Miss Swann absentmindedly ducked her head, bringing her clenched fists between her chest and her knees as she tuned out Pintel and Ragetti's incessant gabbing about the excursion.

She began to rock with her forehead pressed against her kneecaps as she yearned for her warm old boots or even a full skirt like Tia Dalma's ragged gown. Oh, what beauty and warmth she could find in the bloomers and the stockings and the white layers of skirts right now! She had already attempted to remain below, but the quick foreign language tossed among the crew and the constant glares when she made the slightest peep made her retreat to the frosty deck of the Hai Peng. Elizabeth squeezed shut her eyes, tortured as another puff of wind whipped around her lean figure. Suddenly, a heavy and soft weight collapsed upon her, and large hands tucked in the object in every nook and cranny that was exposed to the icy weather.

"There is less of a breeze at the stern." the rumbled voice said as one of his arms stroked her back, still shifting the tan furry blanket into place.

Her forehead was a throbbing red as she lifted her head to look at the man, recognizing the voice immediately and guiltily savoring his touch. "Oh, okay." she murmured, eyeing his rosy cheeks and the bits of snow that had frozen over his eyebrows and chin.

Kneeling next to her, William nearly lifted Elizabeth to her feet as they rose in unison, his arm looping around her little waist. "You're so cold." he announced effortlessly, thinking the woman must be much more than just cold since she rose so weakly. Perhaps Elizabeth was sick. If she was, she shouldn't even be on deck. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, I'm just frozen..." Elizabeth trailed off as she leaned against Mr. Turner's equally chilled body, realizing he was now swiveling her to the opposite side to thwart the wind from reaching her. He tenderly readjusted the blanket around her shoulders, hoping it would not chill her worse, and when her eyes met his, he saw her pretty face glowing and snowflakes clustering on her eyelashes. "Thank you, Will." she said softly as he guided her past Captain Barbossa and Mr. Gibbs and to the lower steps.

"Anytime." Will replied lightly, checking Elizabeth's condition one last time before turning to midship, where Tai Huang corralled around the unfurled charts. "May I?" he asked and the Chinese man immediately stepped aside, taking a seat nearby as William sat down, watching his breath puff in front of him as he leaned over the charts. He began to spin the rings, growing more and more confused as the messages collided and altered.

"Nothing here is set." Will hissed as he revolved the innermost ring again. How could you find out anything truthful from them? "These can't be as accurate as modern charts."

"No," Tai Huang answered confidently as Will looked to the man, "but it leads to more places."

"_Over the edge, over again. Sunrise sets. Flash of green."_ Will narrated hoarsely from a lined up message, furrowing his eyebrows as he shook his head. Riddles. They were all damn riddles. After rolling up the charts, he marched toward the captain (with Tai Huang following closely behind), slightly agitated by the confusing message as he unfurled them once again and handed them to the aged captain. Will inquired with vehemence, "Do you care to interpret, Captain Barbossa?"

Elizabeth lifted her head from the formed burrow, only allowing her brown doe eyes to peek over the top of the blanket. Green flash? It sounded strikingly familiar, and then it struck her that a few sailors had shared their stories about the odd incidents when she lingered about the docks in her girlhood.

Barbossa was casually seated as he responded, tilting slightly toward the first mate. "Ever gazed upon the green flash, Master Gibbs?"

Curiously, Will listened while still believing the charts were utterly frustrating as Gibbs turned from the side of the ship, his beard coated, his shoulders dusted with a heavy layer of snow, and his tone proud, obliged to deliver a story.

"I reckon I seen my fair share," he replied, his eyes glimmering intensely as he gestured with a thrill. "Happens on rare occasions. The last glimpse of sunset, a flash of green shoots up into the sky."

Will's eyebrows furrowed for the second time, now puzzled by the insight and thoroughly disturbed. He wondered how this green flash connected with their journey, especially when it was so prominently noticeable. _Over the edge, over again_. He repeated to himself, imagining the descriptive tales of the end of the Earth and what lay on the other side.

"Some go their whole lives without ever seeing it." Gibbs continued in an even more animated tone. "Some claim to seen who ain't. And some say..."

"It signals when a soul comes back to this world from the dead!" Pintel interjected enthusiastically with Pintel hovering over his shoulder. The man turned when he felt Gibbs' furious glare upon him and he anxiously added, "Sorry."

The wheels began to turn and the gears began to crank. If this legend was true, as so many had been before them, then this green flash could rescue his father from his ill-fate. If Davy Jones' heart was pierced, Bootstrap could return to the living and no longer live a life in an eternity of suffering.

Back from the dead? Elizabeth's first instinct was to cry, "But that's impossible." But she resisted, realizing how completely foolish she would sound. She gazed at Barbossa surreptitiously. After all, right before her was living proof that humans can be revived, and soon, she prayed, Jack would be added to the list.

"Trust me, young Master Turner." Barbossa added in a self-assured manner as he passed the charts back to William. "It's not getting to the land of the dead that's the problem..." The lever creaked as he pulled it one side, and his eyes widened. "It's getting back."

Without a second glance, Will returned to his seat and unrolled the mystical charts, checking the patterns of the words once again, hoping to discover the key to saving his father. Tai Huang wandered past him with a gasp as they coasted between two gigantic icebergs that rose thousands of feet above water. In a gradual swell, the ship was abruptly suctioned into blackness like the hand of death, and Will fumbled to return the chart to its container. There was a shuffle of feet, a whimper of pain when the person struck the mast of the vessel, and then someone's hand rested on his shoulder.

"Look," Elizabeth's hand quivered as she patted his frigid shoulder, the blanket still swathing her figure, and then she glided past him, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. She gazed into the water that had now eclipsed into a sea of dazzling stars, and she glanced up into the sky, realizing that it was now mirroring the waves with every quake. "It is beautiful." She announced as she grasped the railing with one hand, desiring to feel the enigmatic ocean in her hands.

"Yes, it's... Amazing." Will replied, taking a position beside her. "Elizabeth," he brought her fervent eyes to his face. "I apologize for being harsh with you about my father a few days ago." She tilted her head back toward the sea as she nodded solemnly. He tentatively announced, "I'm afraid that something troubles you more and more each day."

The cold melting away from her body, she allowed the blanket to slip off one shoulder as she responded, "My heart is troubled for the same reason that yours is, Will."

"This is a voyage of resolution then?" he asked boldly, adrenaline streamlining through his veins as the image of a union between Elizabeth and Jack Sparrow broiled over his exterior.

Elizabeth looked past the rigging, attempting to admire the stars blithely, but unable to remove the memory of Will's distressed countenance at Tia Dalma's shack. "Yes," she gently said with a concealed fiery conviction. "It is." She tapped her feet as she adjusted the furry blanket subconsciously and she spat, "Why do we always come back to this? Why can't-?" Every moment spent was wasted beneath this pressure! "Oh, this is my fault!" she shrieked, charging past Will and clambering below deck.

"Elizabeth!" he called after her, but she had already descended to the lower level. It was her fault. It was HER fault? What did that mean? Sometimes, it felt as though they were so near to revealing their secrets to one another and then, watching as if amused at their own misery, yet another bridge was incinerated. It wasn't even Elizabeth's fault that they had not reconnected as of late. Perhaps she started it, but they were both to blame for the tension and the shattered bonds. So then, what was her fault? He wondered if she had come to realize the extent of Davy Jones' sentence. Was she aware that if he, William Turner, willingly stabbed the heart, he would never see her again? Or, he wondered, did any of that matter to her? He wondered if blame played a role in Jack's death. If she felt responsible for not persuading him to come along... For not granting him more than a... than a... single kiss. He wondered how far she would have gone, if Jack and Elizabeth had a calm hour or two before his death. Would every sensation that had burned for _Will_ in the past year erupt in that pirate's arms? Will shook his head at the thought. He didn't want Elizabeth to give her heart away to a man who would never give his full heartedly.

Avoiding another inconclusive confrontation with his loved one, Will returned to his station at the charts, still musing about her. He could not make her speak, and she would not force him to give up. Will had once thought that he never wished to hear Elizabeth say, "I love Jack. I'm leaving you for him. That is why I'm on this voyage." But now, it was what he needed to hear. He would wait an eternity for Elizabeth Swann if her heart belonged to him, but he would no longer wait for her if she did not want him back. It was wrong for her to drag him along and yet he loved that woman too damn much to tell her so. Time. That was what she needed. All she desired, wasn't it? Perhaps her time would be up once she saw Jack. Once she leapt into his arms and kissed his parched lips, pulling him from the punishment of Davy Jones' locker. Perhaps then, once she had someone to hold onto, she would tell Will without hesitation or regret. Perhaps she would apologize slightly, like she did with James Norrington, and then move on and become the person he wanted most it the world, but the one he could never have. He dared to hope that it would be different, but his delusional dreams about the pirate and the governor's daughter's reunion had haunted and influenced him. Regardless of her heart, Will wrenched his parent's knife from his belt and recollected his promise; he would rectify everything with his father by filching the Black Pearl beneath Jack and Barbossa and he would reach her, whether to say a final goodbye or to announce they could start anew. Furiously slamming the knife into the lightly snowy table, much like he did at the shack, Will sunk his head into his hands, brushing the fresh snowflakes from his face and then gripping his cheeks, unable to conjur another productive or even unproductive thought.


	23. Chapter 23: Rum Soaked Motives

(OT: Aw! I'm actually glad that you hate and love me because that means I'm spreading across my message. The next chapter shall skip onto the crew and Jack boarding the Pearl and the TRUST scene. This one is based off of one of the original leaked scripts, and it just screamed "INBETWEEN SCENE" so I decided to keep the conversation, but I did rearrange some of the lines and put my spin on it. Mostly Elizabeth's point of view until the end. The next shall be a mixture again. Thanks to Terry and Ted for the umph for this chapter. As always, I own nothing. Simply borrowing.)

Tia Dalma sashayed around the deck with a tray in hand, the glimmering waves lapping against the ship as they cruised through starry waters. Posing in a similar position, she handed each crew member a mug of chilled rum, and the men grasped the handles greedily, their eyes blazing with the fervor of their past excursions in Tortuga. The captain gripped the cup tenderly, nodding to the bayou women appreciatively as he downed the contents. Gibbs nursed his, savoring every sip, and Will murmured a thank you as he swigged a long dosage. Tia Dalma paused at the only other women on the Hai Peng, who was seated on a mound of crates, and her ink-lined lips parted as she placed the mug in Miss Swann's lap. Elizabeth cupped her hands around the leather mug as if to keep her warm, her eyes level to the ground as Tia Dalma set down the serving tray and glided into a seat.

"We sail into dangerous waters," she announced, her voice raspy and her breath visible in the slight cold. "I wonder which of you are up to de task. Of course, you will survive if your motives are strong." With her eyes narrowed she swiveled in her seat to eye Will, waiting until he found her gaze. She asked inquisitively, "What brings you on dis voyage, _William_?" An impish smile emerged, as if she already knew the answer, but Will immediately replied, his tone steady, and his eyes glazed over.

"There is what a man can do... And what a man _can't_ do. Jack Sparrow died saving my life. I can't leave it at that."

Elizabeth knew that wasn't true. He had an ulterior motive that no one else knew about, not even she, but the lady stayed silent, finally quenching her thirst with a heady swig. Now was not the time to begin a conversation or an argument. She grimaced as the liquid simmered in her throat, but remembered Jack Sparrow's words oh-so-long-ago when they were marooned on that god-forsaken island.

_"The first goes down rough, but the second is easier...And it'll eventually grow on you...Miss Swann." _

Back then, Elizabeth had trusted his word and chugged the contents, starting on another contain within thirty minutes of the first and crooning the old pirate song in the happiest nature, enjoying Mr. Sparrow's lovely idea of prancing and drinking the night away.

Elizabeth almost yearned to break at that point when she heard his speech so vividly in her mind, realizing that every time she and Jack were thrust into a tight situation, she twisted his world somehow, whether by an angry rum-burning island or a salacious betrayal. She watched her beloved straighten in his seat as Tia Dalma rose, replenished the contents of his mug, and directed the same question to the scraggily man nearby.

"And you, Master Barbossa? What brings you on de voyage to World's End?" she offered the man a refill, and Hector accepted insatiably.

"To atone for my many and varied sins, ma'am," the captain answered with great conviction, lifting his eyes to the woman's dark complexion. To his right, Gibbs chuckled and nodded, mocking the captain without a care, and Barbossa's face fell, for once appearing visibly wounded that his own crew assumed that he did not have the heart to repent for his past. Clearing his throat and resuming his mean disposition, Barbossa added as Tia Dalma slithered away, "And seeing as you did me the great favor of restoring me life, I am, of course, overcome with gratitude and offer to be of service in any way I can."

"And you want the _Pearl," _Elizabeth boldly chimed in, snorting at his façade of sincerity.

Ignoring the remark, Gibbs inquired, "I wondered about that. How exactly were you delivered from your ill-fate?" Barbossa grinned as his small monkey scampered over to him with a small pouch and plopped it in his lap. Jack clambered over the man's shoulders, looping his tail around the captain's neck. The elderly man withdrew a brilliantly green apple from the bag and crunched into the fruit, signifying that silence was to be his answer.

Taking notice of the other woman's abrupt interruption, Tia Dalma asked with a singe, her eyes glaring into Elizabeth's soul. "And you, Elizabet'? What_ lies_ in your heart on dis trip?"

Miss Swann's head jerked at the word "lies" as the ponderings on Jack's fate broiled to the surface, and she felt Will eyes skimming over her as she considered her answer delicately. As she lowered her the mug from her parched lips replied, "Jack Sparrow was a good man." Her volume swelled as she found her full voice. "And he did not deserve the fate the world gave him."

"And what man does?" Tia Dalma laughed haughtily, tilting back her head as she yanked the corners of her shawl about her shoulders and sat back down.

"To punish the wicked, I leave to God," Elizabeth growled, her eyes squinting in furious anger that had built for Lord Beckett and her own deeds. "But the least we can try to do is to reward the good, don't you agree?" No one dared respond the razor blade tone of her voice. "What about you, Tia Dalma? What makes you risk such a _dangerous_ journey?" She highlighted the words with the rise and fall of her voice, setting the mug aside after emptying it with a final sip. She had not meant for such a vicious message, but it had emerged from her own heart, and she knew she could not deny the weight of her words.

"The world is a lesser place without Jack Sparrow," Tia Dalma responded placidly.

"To be sure," Elizabeth replied tenderly, prepared to question the woman further when Will interjected.

"But that doesn't answer the question, does it?" he inquired lightly, somehow connecting with his loved one for that moment, and a glance passed between them. It was an indisputable bond that they had lost over the past few months. There was now a civilized but resolute barrier between their minds and body language, and Will was suddenly absorbed in hope that perhaps it could be broken in time.

Tia Dalma looked slyly between the tattered couple and answered enigmatically. "I am owned many debts, wit Jack Sparrow not de least among de debtors. I can hardly collect from a man not of dis world."

Elizabeth's head drooped as she skated away from the crew, her feet softly padding against the greenish deck as she reached the side, her hands flopping over the railing. Jack was in another world. Another time and place. He was swimming in a sea of torture and punishment for his broken promise and her lusty intent. What damage would it do to him? And what would the captain say when he saw Elizabeth? It was the first time she had even considered Jack's reaction. Could he ever grow faith in this pirate again? But faith was not what she desired or needed between her and Jack. Faith was what she required in Will.

"How long do we continue not talking?" Will voice boomed behind her, full of stale rum and slipping hope.

She averted eye contact, gazing into the boundless and paranormal sea. "Once we rescue Jack," she responded softly, "everything will be fine."

"When we rescue Jack?" Will questioned, grasping onto the vision of her frail black back. Turn to me, he yearned to scream. Turn and talk to me.

Elizabeth's neck swiveled and she gazed at him for a moment. Did he... Did he know? It felt as though they had returned to Tia Dalma's shack. His eyes were so absorbed in her quandary... Her troubled heart. With hurt bloating behind her eyes, Elizabeth trotted past William, her heart thumping madly as she retreated into the comfort of the crew, plunking onto the crates again.


	24. Chapter 24: Trust

Elizabeth slowly climbed into the black longboat, casting her eyes away from the crew who still gazed at her in mysterious awe. It had occurred to her, when she grinned as Jack approached them in contempt, that everything was about to drastically alter. She had glanced over her shoulder at Will, suddenly realizing the moment would come when her dirty little secret would be unveiled and her beloved would finally discover that she was everything he did not desire. Will slid into the farthest seat away from the woman, but Elizabeth did not notice or mind, sliding the cuffs of her sleeves over her knuckles in anxiousness. It was finished though. She had repented in the only way possible, but her misdeed still lay in guilt. His rescue, or at least this part of the rescue, had altered nothing. Her heart still ached for murdering Jack and for hurting Will.

Barbossa was the first to rise from the little boat once they reached the _Pearl_, and he began to scale the gangway, the small crew proceeding one by one. Jack stepped up next, ignoring the man he once called a eunuch and the woman he once was inclined to fancy. Ducking her head, Elizabeth scrambled unsteadily to her feet, her knuckles paling as she gripped the narrow ladder nervously. As the woman ascended the side of the vessel, she absent-mindedly observed Will as he followed and accidentally took one step too many, grasping Captain Sparrow's black boots by mistake.

She managed to whisper a muddled apology, but Captain Jack was already tilting toward her as he remarked blandly, "I'd rather not go back to the depths, Miss Swann."

Elizabeth did not grimace nor did she even reply. The fraught woman just shifted her gaze and removed her slender hand from his foot. She watched him frown at her response; he had obviously expected the same feisty Elizabeth Swann, who would retort an entirely true notion at precisely the right time. She could feel Will's eyes gliding over her, waiting and watching her movement.

--

William stepped onto the Black Pearl's deck, observing Elizabeth as she frantically tried to draw her attention to some sort of duty. She helped lower the other (magically) repaired longboats, so that the Chinese crew could row over from the Locker's shore, but he could not help noticing that her eyes would not leave the recovered captain. He could tell it was not a smitten gaze. He knew that gaze. He, without a doubt, owned that lovely gaze consistently. As he moved to the side to allow other crew members to board, he watched her movements as she chased after Jack.

Her once beautiful and elegant stride was now tainted; her long legs jutted in a strange rhythm as she swerved from one side to the other, and her head which once was held so proudly now sagged beneath the grip of this burden. This wasn't his Elizabeth. She had not just tortured him; she had tortured herself.

Will had thought so furiously that she had delivered that passionate kiss as a final romantic adieu to the captain... As a parting gift of, "I love you. I needed to tell you that before you sacrificed yourself." But it wasn't that in the least bit. _She_ sacrificed Jack Sparrow to save herself and him. Although this overjoyed Will in the darkest corners of his mind, he was also tormented by the fact that she had not trusted him with this laden burden. She had concealed every little pang by ignoring him, by not speaking to him, by not committing herself whole-heartedly him.

--

"Ja-" Elizabeth cut herself off as the two captains feuded, growing more and more frustrated. She just wanted to talk to him... Even though it pained her to think of what stinging words he might utter. "Jack," she futilely tried again, but he barely glanced over his shoulder as the two men bounded toward the helm.

Defeated, Elizabeth trotted toward a gaping hatch; the grate was already lifted aside, and light poured into the dim lower level. The crew was above, ready to make sail, but she sank into a seat on the third step from the bottom, staring blankly at the closed off walls. Everything was exposed in a matter of minutes, and now, Elizabeth had no idea where she stood on Will's side... Or anyone's side for that matter. She had deceived every person she loved...Even her father. He would be so disappointed, she reflected. Knowing she was out here, among filthy pirates, gallivanting away as he sat in that mansion, or worse, sitting alongside Beckett's horrid lot. Elizabeth had no one to lean on, and she didn't deserve anyone either. Guilt punched her stomach from side to side, and with her fists clenched she pounded them softly against her thighs. An eerie presence suddenly caught her eye, and she turned to Will before he even spoke. She could feel the words bloating in his throat, and she awaited them somberly, realizing they were more than likely going to simmer in her heart for ages.

"You left Jack to the Kraken," he stated without much inflection, starting the conversation with a sour twinge. He recognized from the moment they stepped on board that Elizabeth would not wish to speak with him. But they had to... He had to open her up.

She did not expect such a solid statement. Perhaps a, "So that was what you were hiding," or, "This can't work, you know." But not such a testimonial of her sin. Elizabeth had hoped it would aid in solving their problems if they salvaged Jack, but it seemed to only clarify their quandary, not fix it. "He's rescued now," Elizabeth replied, hoping Will would see that this was her redemption, even if it felt bitter at the moment. "It's done with." Will swiveled around, and she rapidly rose. It couldn't end like this! She wanted to know what he thought... What he actually came to say. "Will, I had no choice!" Elizabeth added emphatically, shaking her head slightly.

With his back still turned to her, Will responded weakly, "You chose not to tell me." Witnessing that kiss had pained him but this injured him even worse. This only displayed that their attachment was dwindling. Did she even want to wish to work through this?

"I couldn't," Elizabeth proclaimed. No, it was true. How could she tell him that she was so utterly revolting... That she did not deserve his devotion. "It wasn't your burden to bear."

"But I did bear it, didn't I?" he asked rhetorically with his eyebrows furrowed. What sorrow she had caused! But he could not hate her. Will could never loathe Elizabeth. His sweet Elizabeth. "I just didn't know what it was." He gradually turned to the woman, meeting her soulful screeching eyes. She was asking for help. He knew it, but he could no longer find a way to reach her. With their tremulous breath mingling together he uttered softly, "I thought..." he trailed off, unable to imagine the pair together without feeling his own heart twinge with heartache.

"You thought I loved him," Elizabeth finished for him, suddenly realizing what he must have witnessed. He must have seen her grip Jack's tweed covered arm and press her frail figure against his, twisting her head side to side as her lips ravaged his. Oh, how could she have done such a thing? How could she have been capable of such ruthlessness... How could she torture Will? She had done this to him. Elizabeth had watched their relationship collapsing bit by bit, and she had done nothing! She had just allowed it to happen, so swallowed by her guilt that she could not even care for the one she loved. The woman ducked from his grasp, her eyes searching for the stairs. Run. She had to escapeWill before she hurt him any worse.

William clasped her left shoulder and softly shoved her against the wall's beam, his hips only inches from hers and his eyes grazing over her delicately constructed face. They needed to break the tension before it was too late.

Her eyes slid to his lips subconsciously. Even though it was the most inopportune time, she had only been cornered a few times by Will and they almost always ended with a light kiss.

With his eyes locking onto hers with a fervent attention, every suppressed emotion flooded from his soul and into Elizabeth's as he proclaimed, "If you make your choices alone, how can I trust you?"

Elizabeth replied without hesitation, "You can't." She feebly ducked beneath his muscular arm, taking giant leaps toward the steps and clambering on deck to the safety in numbers.

He slammed his fist against the wall. She didn't trust herself either... That much he was certain of.

(OT: YES. The trust scene. I hope I did it justice. Ah, this really gets the ball rolling. I'm having trouble forming a good land-of-the-dead chapter where Elizabeth says farewell to her father and then Will comforts her.I realize that scene needs to be just right, so it may be a little later in the weekend. Hopefully. Sorry for the lack of updates this week.)


	25. Chapter 25: Won't Let You Run

(OT: Yay! New reviewers. Welcome! And thank you! I figured this might take a while to write, but it came fairly quickly to me early this morning, and I also hope I portray this scene the right way because it is so sensitive andnothing is resolved yet, but you know, there was some sort of step. I think at this point, they regained that entirely silent connection that they had lost, even though I don't really mention it here. Anyway, enjoy! And hopefully another will come soon! Probably... When Sao Feng shows up and takes Elizabeth.)

No, this wasn't happening.

She seemed to be thinking that lately.

He wasn't... He couldn't be... dead. Her father wasn't passing her by in a little longboat, incapable of saving himself or embracing her a final time. Why didn't he grab that damn line? Her feet moved faster than her thoughts, and she thrust forward, leaving the line draped across the edge, and clinging to the netting, her hands slipping through the square-cut holes. "Father!" she screeched at the top of her lungs, thrashing with the quake of her heart. "Please come with us! Please! No... I won't leave you!" She bounced against the ropes, prepared to leap forward... Prepared to do anything to return her father to the living world. He was drifting away, and she heard the crew thundering toward her, their heavy footsteps clunking against the deck.

"I'll give your love to your mother, shall I?" Governor Swann inquired, so unfeeling to his beloved daughter's screams.

Ignoring his question, she wailed, ""Please! I won't let you die!" Her words were interjected as Will tugged her from the rigging, softly murmuring her name and spinning her into his grasp. His hands stroked her back as she buried her face in his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his neck as she sniveled and sobbed. How could he be dead? Who could have done such a thing to her father?

Will shifted Elizabeth as they huddled against one another, hating to see Elizabeth suffer even more. He too mourned the loss of the Governor, realizing that justice was not to be served anytime soon. "Is there a way?" Will asked, his eyes darting to Tia Dalma.

Tia Dalma shook her head solemnly as the rest of the crew, excluding Jack, clattered behind Gibbs and Barbossa. "Him at peace," she murmured, glancing to the eerie sea as Governor Swann glided into the distance, lifeless streaming bodies following shortly thereafter.

---

As the crew returned to the main deck, Will rubbed Elizabeth's back, kissing her head as she swayed. "It will be all right," he whispered, even though he knew any sentiments were in vain at this point. He had never felt her tremble like this. He had never seen Elizabeth weep without correcting herself within a few minutes. Will had seen her fume and watch anxious tears cascade to the ground, but never ones that transferred and shook his own soul.

"No, it's not going to be _ok,_" Elizabeth hissed, speaking in giant gasps between her dribbling tears. "I have hurt everyone... This is my fault. This is all my fault." The woman attempted to wriggle from his grasp, suddenly yearning for the solace of a solitary chamber, but Will would not release her, his arms swathing her with great control.

"I won't let you do this to yourself, Elizabeth," he murmured, pressing himself against her thin figure. "We have all made mistakes, including your father." His words were stone-cold with a few traces of affection, gulping down his own misdeeds. She writhed even harder this time, her hands sliding down from his neck and shoving against his chest. "Elizabeth," he commanded. "I won't let you run. Not anymore."

She resisted only a moment more before realizing that this was what she needed; this was what she wanted. Elizabeth swung her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his shoulder once again, and teardrops still trickling upon his vest. She felt him gently step in reverse until finally finding a suitable seat, her eyes still averted from his gaze. If they were lock eyes... She was afraid that the revolver would click again... That conflict would broil and explode over them, and every embrace would be forgotten and forsaken. So Elizabeth enveloped herself in the meager pardoning, lying alongside Will without pondering her guilt, his torture, her torture, or anything that pertained to their relationship over the past events for the first time. The woman abruptly realized how exhausted she was... As her hands traced the wrinkles of his blouse, she curled against him, nuzzling his leather vest.

Even though he did not desire it in any way, Will had expected a longer struggle from his loved one, but she had submitted, and he hoped he realized he would never allow her to run again. He stroked her back gently, tilting his face away from the mourning woman and to the murky waters. Will felt her forestalling any eye contact, and he quickly realized that she wanted one day without afflicting themselves with their burdens. He considered telling her his second reason for going on this voyage, but then he loathed the emotion that swelled in his chest. Will did not trust her. He had stated that, and he had loathed every second of it because the notion was so purely true. She had to have faith in herself before they mended their attachment, no matter how long he must wait. He mind now flipped back to Tia Dalma's disturbing and sinister remark

_A touch of destiny..._

It was the same thing she had said when they had met those months ago, searching for that weird shaped key. And now, it clicked in tune with Governor Swann's looming words.

_Sail the seas for eternity. The Dutchman must always have a captain. _

He had heard the second part before when he and his father conversed with Wyvern, except he hadn't known that he _must_ sail the seas for eternity. That meant... Life without his Elizabeth. As he caressed her blonde locks, he could not imagine life without this wonderful woman. Will's head sagged as he imagined his pulsing heart in the engraved chest while watching Elizabeth blissfully ashore without him. Sulking in these thoughts, he gripped Elizabeth tauter, realizing that at one point he would have to make a decision. To save his father... Or salvage his and Elizabeth's relationship.

"Elizabeth," he whispered, but she made no movement and did not lift her head. He tilted forward, and she limply drooped against his muscular arm. Miss Swann had drifted into a slumber, but her hands still clutched onto his dark maroon shirt. He tenderly hoisted her legs onto his lap and then swept her into a grip, gently lifting her from the seat with her head still leaning on his chest. The man descended the nearest hatch and entered the sailors' barracks, a few men already resting. He located the cleanest one and soothingly situated her in the linen hammock, draping a spare blanket over her figure. William knelt beside Elizabeth, staring into her stained cheeks and closed eyes. How he wished that they were in the original Port Royal... So that he would be innocently gazing at her complexion instead of having an underlying feeling of fright if he were caught. Will softly tucked stray tresses behind her ears and stroked her relaxed hand before turning toward the staircase, glancing at the sleeping Miss Swann before trudging up the staircase and returning to his reflections.

Was there really a choice? Davy Jones could not continue his trecherous reign, and his father would soon become part of the ship. He couldn't allow Bootstrap to lose his mind. In a way, he had known he was killing him when he had shed his blood over those Aztec coins, but he did not realize that Bootstrap was facing a fate that was just as bad as everlasting death. It was everlasting life encased in a vessel's algae-encrusted walls for eternity, only partially knowing thathestill breathed and lived the same air as the other sailors. Will returned to his seat near the helm, closing his eyes as he relaxed into his thoughts. But how could he leave Elizabeth? Who did she have to depend on now? He would lose her if he carved his heart out, and she would lose everyone she loved. The impending choice threw their relations into perspective. Their time was limited, and he had to know if she could forgive herself, so that he too could begin to trust her.


	26. Chapter 26: Trading Miss Swann

(OT: Thank you for the reviews! You have no idea how much it means to me and how much it makes me want to write!

Incoming: Long out of character bit:

You are quite fortunate if you enjoy my last novelization-type scene of the bathhouse because I have done the exact same thing here, with the swapping people scene among Beckett, Sao Feng, Jack, Barbossa, Elizabeth, and Will.I've added bits and pieces in to fill in the gaps where Beckett and Jack's conversation would have gone, and of course, explained the glances, the thoughts etc.

The next will flip from Elizabeth being prepared by Sao Feng's ladies-to her whole conversation with James and such-And then to Will and Jack.. Perhaps even a little insight into how dear William escaped the brig and what he was thinking about when he did it. Ah, so much to write... We'll see how much time.

Not this week but next week will be Spring Break so I will probably have more than enough time to write and write and write. I'm excited to write the marriage and beach scene... Ohhh might go to a Mature rating there! Enjoy! And tell me if you would want me to continue these novelization-type scenes occassionally!)

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"Wretch!" Elizabeth shrieked, lunging toward the pirate lord as the _Black Pearl's_ dutiful crew was ensnared by heavy chains. Her hand went toward the hilt of her sword, but it was gone, and she suddenly recalled removing it earlier. She still attempted rake Sao Feng with her fingernails, pouncing toward the back of his neck. The man spun around and easily caught both of her wrists, grinning maliciously.

"Miss Swann, is it not?" he inquired mockingly, their noses nearly touching. "Bind her," he ordered nonchalantly, gesturing to several crew members as he thrust her in reverse.

They crept toward Elizabeth with menacing chains rattling at their waists, awaiting the new prisoner. "Will!" Elizabeth screamed out of habit as the men advanced upon her helpless figure, grasping her by the head and waist and fastening chain-link manacles to her wrists. She writhed only for a moment when Sao Feng stepped forward placidly.

"You're struggle is wasted," he remarked to the woman as the Chinese crew bellowed their victory, crying joyously as Barbossa and Jack slithered aboard the _Pearl. _Surrounded by four men, she glanced to Jack's nervous expression and Barbossa's confusement.

"Sao Feng," he announced with a grinded tone. "You showing up here, 'tis truly a remarkable coincidence."

Sao Feng immediately swerved around the elderly man, aiming his remark to the cowering captain. "Jack Sparrow," he said as the (usually) flippant man peered around Barbossa's shoulder. "You paid me great insult once."

Revealing himself fully with his index finger at his lips, Jack shrugged and responded innocently, "That doesn't sound like me." The Chinese man sprung toward the dreadlocked captain, his fist slamming into Sparrow's nose. Gripping his nose in agony, the pirate asked, "Shall we just call it square then?"

Will charged through the throng, recollecting Elizabeth's recent scream, and quickly assessing the situation. They had captured his love as well. Definitely not going as planned. "Release her," he commanded to Tai Huang's men. "She's not part of the bargain."

Barbossa retorted, "And what bargain be that?"

Will refused to answer, his eyes on Elizabeth's confounded expression as the crew members murmured amongst themselves, wondering if they should listen to the young man. Although this was only a small delay in his well-concealed scheme, something ached at his stomach, telling him to be cautious. He had informed Sao Feng of the terms, and he had directly disobeyed them... No, he couldn't blithely allow any setbacks to occur.

"You heard Captain Turner," Sao Feng declared, swiveling toward Elizabeth and her captors. "Release her."

"Captain Turner?" Jack clarified, the words like poison to his tongue.

"Aye," Gibbs explained with a singe. "The profidious rotter led a mutiny against us." It was a tone of shocked expectation. No one had suspected dear William to pull off or even attempt such a feat.

Will growled in response, "I need the Pearl to free my father." He ruptured his eye contact with the woman, knowing what response would immediately emerge. Shaking his head at the feuding captains he archly proclaimed, "That's the only reason I came on this voyage."

He hadn't told her. He was hiding something... And Elizabeth directly made inquires about it, and he rebuked her questions without woe. Released from the shackles, she marched toward Will and asked irately, "Why didn't you tell me you were planning this?" Elizabeth would have understood. She had cradled her burden for so long, and it felt so awful and wonderful to reveal it... So why hadn't he done the same?

"It was my burden to bear." It was an automatic response with his gaze shifted to the skyline.It was without inflection or real feeling. He had a right to be livid, didn't he? Will had suppressed his own rage for her sake AND for _his own _sanity's sake, but now it was rioting beneath him and emerging with a simmering tone.

She stared at him, hurt by the burning comment and unable to respond with certainty, and he gazed right back, without a single hint of apology lingering in his eyes. Her burden was worse! At the time, she thought that she was protecting Will. She wasn't aware that he had known of her salacious kiss and betrayal throughout the voyage nor had she ever wanted him to.

"He needs the Pearl!" Jack cried, mentally separating himself from the mutineers and unsteady alliance. "Captain Turner needs the Pearl." He gestured to William, the words still dribbling out of his mouth sourly, and then he leaned toward his once-confidant incredulous and upset. "And you felt guilty."

Elizabeth grimaced, along with Will, realizing the absurdity of these announcements. She settled on conversing with Will later, if this ploy was successful, turning her glance from him as her anger plummeted into her stomach.

Jack sauntered toward Hector, his eyes twitching as pistols centered on the pirate in all directions. "And you and your Brethren Court! Did no one come to save me just because they missed me?" Gibbs rolled his eyes, glancing to Tia Dalma's equally irritated expression. Without a second glance, Marty's stubby hand shot into the hair, and Pintel, Ragetti, Cotton, and Jack the monkey lifted their hands, smiling slightly. Jack pointed to each of them with a broad golden-toothed grin as he declared, "I'm standing over there with them."

Sao Feng clasped Sparrow's neck as he hissed, "I'm sorry, Jack, but there is an old friend who wants to see you first."

Gulping down another clever remark, Jack responded, "I'm not certain I can survive any more visits from old friends."

"Here's your chance to find out," Sao Feng replied, shoving the pirate through the scattering pirates.

Elizabeth balked as the pair billowed through the crowd, her arm slapping against Will's in the process. "What's he talking about?" she asked, forgetting their mean comments, and now concerned for her and Will's welfare.

Will glanced to the woman, unable to conjure up a concise explanation and still slightly infuriated. He didn't understand her. Upset at him, angered toward his actions, yearning for his comfort... What did she want anymore? And yet, he couldn't say that now. Cornered by the wrong moments but desiring so much more.

--

As Beckett's militia boarded the Pearl, Will thundered toward Sao Feng and Mercer, who stood face to face in confrontation. "You agreed," he said, growing weary of the increasing number of soldiers. "The _Black Pearl_ was to be mine." Elizabeth lingered behind him, entirely unsure of the agreement and�desperately hoping it was all a misunderstanding.

"And so it was," Sao Feng resolutely replied with�a succinct nod to his men.

Elizabeth leapt backward as two Chinese men's fists plunged into Will's vest, knocking a giant agonizing groan from the man. "Will!" she cried, stepping after the men as they dragged him away. "Let us go!" Elizabeth grunted as two men gripped her wiry arms, growling for her to stay still as she writhed beneath their grasp, casting her glance to the struggling and recovering Will a few times. His wrists were finally snared without a word as he watched Elizabeth twist out of the men's grip. It was no use; he knew that as soon as Sao Feng replied to his commands. 

The woman broke their grasp, kneeing both in groin before attempting to escape the crammed throng, her breathing unsteady as she swerved left and right, narrowly avoiding the assailants. A man suddenly lunged out of no where, pinning her arms to the ground and straddling her slim waist. Without a second thought, Elizabeth screamed when the man whipped out a jagged dagger.

"No!" Will's voice boomed behind them as the attacker's weaponpierced against Elizabeth's throat, forcing her to grudgingly crawl to her feet. William's shoulders were now drawn back into the crowd, and Elizabeth was shoved toward him, several Chinese men spinning her toward them to attach shackles once again. How could he let this happen? How could he arrange something so rashly without consulting, without thinking this through...? With her mouth gaping open in amazement and resentment, she turned toward the pitchfork around Will's neck.

Gripping Mercer's unmarked shoulder, Sao Feng declared, "Beckett agreed the _Black Pearl_ was to be mine."

"Lord Beckett's not going to give up the only ship that can outrun the Dutchman, now is he?" Mercer responded snidely, curling his lip at Sao Feng's grimy touch. 

Barbossa stepped toward the pirate lord, his eyebrows arched in assured confidence that he could sway this foreign man over to his side. "It's a shame they're not bound to honor the Code of the Brethren, in't it? Because honor's a hard thing to come by nowadays," he persuaded, watching Sao Feng's still exasperated expression carefully.

"There's no honor in remaining with the losing side," Sao responded without wavering. "Leaving it for the winning side, that's just good business."

"The losing side, you say?" Barbossa clarified, knowing it would only act on his influence over the man.

"They have the _Dutchman_, now the _Pearl_. And what do the Brethren have?" the Chinese captain uttered, taking into account his latest losses and gains.

Barbossa's eyes widened. Ah, now he had him. "We have Calypso."

Sao Feng's eyebrows twitched, and he then directed his gaze to Elizabeth and Will, glancing at the young woman up and down. The woman's face contorted in confusion as her eyes flickered toward the captain, confused by the gaze. Of course, she had heard of Calypso, goddess of the seas, wicked and untamable, but she thought it legend. Another fairy tale... Just like Jack Sparrow's legacy. Why did he look at her so?

Sao Feng scoffed and then responded skeptically, "Hm, Calypso..."

Barbossa was now looking over his shoulder, and Elizabeth watched him assess her as well. She glanced to Will, hoping for a probable explanation, but he was too involved in brooding over their predicament to feel her eyes.

"An old legend."

"No," Barbossa responded, forgetting Sao Feng's odd glance at Miss Swann. "The goddess herself, bound in human form. Imagine, all the powers of the seas brought to bear against our enemies."

Good lord. Why was he gazing at her again?

Will now noticed Sao Feng's lingering gaze, and he stared at Elizabeth for a moment, hoping she knew what exactly Sao Feng was thinking, but she just stared back without an answer, hoping for the same thing from him.

"I intend to release her, but for that I need the Court," Barbossa announced, leaning forward and snatching Sao Feng's gemmed necklace into his hand. "All the Court."

The two captains separated, and Sao Feng directly stepped toward Will and Elizabeth as he�inhaled the aroma of his crimson red sash and then lowered it, recalling Elizabeth feisty speech in the bathhouse. "What are you proposing, Captain?"

"What be accepted, Captain?" Barbossa countered, striding after the man.

Elizabeth felt it. She felt every word as it arranged in Sao Feng's mind and popped out of his mouth.

"The girl," Sao Feng replied tersely.

"What?" Elizabeth still asked, unable to control her response even through her expectation. The stares mounted and aligned as well... And she was desired by this Chinese man.

"Elizabeth is not part of any bargain!" Will shouted, shaking his head in refusal. No, she wouldn't be lost to yet another man. They needed to be with one another. He needed her.

"Out of the question," Barbossa agreed, nodding and realizing the hell William would deliver if his dear Elizabeth was taken from him.

"It was not a question," Sao replied coyly, his gaze still resting on Elizabeth's lovely form.

Fine, then. She would find her own means of escaping. "Done," she responded, leveling her eye contact with the Chinese pirate lord. She recalled his sensational words back in the bathhouse... _And the eye does not go wanting._ She was frightened to think of what he might attempt, but she wouldn't allow an escape to slip through her fingers.

"What?" he asked, his head already shaking furiously. "Not done!" Will swiveled his head in astonishment. He wasn't going to let her go. It was as bad as allowing her to run from confrontation. Will had to know... He had to know if he could stop losing her or if he had already lost her.

"You got us into this mess," she whispered intensely. "If this is what frees us..." She rose her voice, "Then done!"

Will swerved around the woman, meeting her face to face and unable to control the heat in his voice. "Elizabeth, they are pirates." He was fully aware of why pirates wanted women... To use them... And then throw them aside. He had witnessed those concubines cooing and acting obediently to Sao Feng, and he wouldn't allow his Elizabeth to become a passive lady beneath Sao's grip.

Elizabeth gritted her teeth as she screeched, "I have had more than enough_ experiences_ dealing with pirates!" She smacked both chained hands against his chest, shoving him backward without remorse. He did this. It was by his fault that she was forcing herself to go along with this man.

Will stepped back into place, realizing Elizabeth did not need him as much as he needed her.

Barbossa vigilantly approached, "Then we have an accord?"

"Yes," Elizabeth replied as she nodded. "We do." The shackles were released from her little wrists, and she rubbed the pulsing red marks for a moment before Sao Feng gestured toward his vessel.

"You're temporary home..." he whispered in a poised fashion.

Tentatively eyeing the man, she stepped forward, but William clasped her arm, tugging her backward. "Elizabeth," he said, gazing straight into her brown doe-eyes, so full of confidence and timorous at the same time. "Just... Be careful." It was all he could form at the moment, weakly staring at her. He didn't want her to leave... To leave with that unpleasant and perilous man. What havoc could (and would) he cause? Will could only imagine the horrors he may force her into, and he impetuously clutched her hands.

"I will be," she replied softly, squeezing Will's hands in return and then slipping from his grasp. She didn't want to leave. She didn't want to glide out of his grasp just yet... Not without a farewell kiss or even a single embrace, but it was too late, and Captain Sao Feng's hands were gliding over her frail back and guiding her into the longboat.

(OT: I'm not sure if fanfiction alerts you of this... But I did go back and alter this chapter after I posted it because several words were run together, and it annoyed the heck out of me so I decided to just add the spaces back in. I think it was some sort of error in my computer or something because my document doesn't include the run-ons. Anyway, just thought I would give you a heads-up in case it does send a message and says that I've changed this chapter... Even though I really haven't. Savvy?)


	27. Chapter 27: Captain Swann

(OT: Um so yes. My apologies for not including Will in this one. This is a chapter of nothingness... Well maybe a little significancy, but mostly just some fun description because I do love to do that. Even this wasn't that in depth for me. Near the end is tension bewtween S.F. and Elizabeth, but the rest is a little pondering, but mostly just what we know the woman must be thinking. I didn't include their entire scene due to time, and I liked how I ended it. Because even though we know what happens, it sort of leaves a cliff hanger for thoughts on the matter. I hope you don't dislike this chapter too much... Perhaps you'll get more out of it than I can see. I really just sat down in my bed and wrote it, so it was more of a "Ok, back into these characters. One on one." The next one. I promise. It will be William's turn. I know I have done more Elizabeth than Will. Ok, now I'm rambling. Sorry. Haha. That is what 11:26 PM does to me I guess.)

As the creased, permeable crimson red sails flapped open, Elizabeth tried not to tremble. The captain's dirty long fingernails scraped from the curve of her back, over her gaunt shoulders, and lightly rested upon her little wrist. The terror had finally struck her as the distance extended between her and Will, and now her options were limited.

"Come," Sao Feng said, gesturing to an elegant entryway.

She cautiously followed him up the flight of stairs, and he slung open the mighty doors with ease, gazing at the woman with the utmost certainty. She glanced down the polished winding staircase that spiraled into an expansive, elaborately decorated candle-lit chamber in awe. Elizabeth had no doubt that Sao had great taste, but she had small faith in what lay in store in that secluded cabin.

"My ladies shall attend to your every feminine desire for the remainder of the evening," he proclaimed softly, highlighting each word with the rise and fall of his voice.

Elizabeth swiveled to face the menacing and tattooed captain. The night. The night was to come when he would surely attempt and… With a bitter gulp… Probably succeed in compromising her honor through sheer force. She had swallowed too much by coming aboard the _Empress_, and there was no escaping at this point. The serene shores and Will's impressive smile was miles away, and there was nothing except the whooshing ocean against the vessel's sides. Collecting her last ounce of courage she dourly uttered, "And why would I need taken care of?"

"A woman of such finery," Sao gently drawled, stroking her thin arm briefly, "should not be subjected to a man's _simple_ attire."

She released a heavy growl, but the captain was already clamping the door shut in her face, and the bolt twisted and locked her in the lovely draped chamber. She tentatively strode down the gleaming steps, her dainty feet barely grazing the ground. In fact, Elizabeth was quite content with her clothes; she had no feminine needs at the moment, and she resented Sao's tainted touch. She dreaded when the sun would set, but since she was unable to escape or evade, Elizabeth trotted to the bottom of the steps and peered over the railing when she heard the sound of sloshing liquid. 

The woman was surprised to see a small alcove with two Chinese ladies pouring steaming buckets of water into a metal tub. "For me?" she asked blandly, and the women lifted their eyes as they ladled out the last drop of water. They remained silent as Elizabeth glided forward, and the girls then bowed at the waist. One woman, whose face was imprinted with deep wrinkles at her straight lips, dropped to the floor and tapped Elizabeth's kneecap. She immediately lifted her thick leg, and the woman removed her simple strappy shoes and then repeated the process with the other foot. Before Elizabeth knew it, the two foreign women had stripped off her black garb piece of piece and gently laid her two flintlock pistols and her personalized sabre on a side table. Standing with her arms crisscrossed across her petite breasts, she inched toward the broiling tub of water when she felt the wafting breeze against her nude flesh. As she slithered into the alcove and slipped into the simmering metal container, the two women exited, taking a solemn position on the opposite side of the staircase, watching for any commands or beckoning.

Elizabeth settled into the warm bath, stretching out her muscular limbs and draping her moist arms across the sides. After dousing her grimy hair with water, she tilted back her head and closed her eyes, and strangely, she imagined Will's concerned expression, marveling at her stupid bravery. Oh, how she wished that she had embraced him. She could nearly feel the red-marks around her wrist and hear her impending screams in the night. She had blamed that fiasco on him, but it wasn't entirely Will's fault. Yes, he had arranged the accord, but that was Will. He was rash and believed in human beings more than Elizabeth ever could. She hoped that those weren't her last words to him. That she would once again grasp his hand and nestle against his warm embrace eventually… Even if she was fatigued from Sao's _needs._ God, how those thoughts frightened Elizabeth! How could she… Be his. Be his property. How could she submit to him? She knew what that captain wanted. Will's little subliminal comments and gestures now balanced upon her shoulders. What had she signed herself into? 

Groaning in agony of the future, Elizabeth dipped herself beneath the scorching waves, allowing her man-made waves to swirl around her head before rising and sighing deeply. She scratched the filth from her drenched tresses and then swiped the light muck from her cheeks and neck, rubbing her hands over her entire body to rid herself of the filth. Minutes later, after the water had cooled, Elizabeth cleared her throat, and the two ladies complacently returned, hoisting up a white cotton dressing gown and a few towels. Elizabeth had now accepted the fact that these women were unresponsive to her bareness, so she rose confidently, and as she stepped out of the tub with water droplets dribbling down her frail back, the women huddled around her and handed her a towel. She accepted the material with a smile, and after thoroughly drying herself, the deep-wrinkled lady hastily slid Elizabeth's arms through the dressing gown and tied a tan sash at the waist, while the other squeezed and pulsed her blonde locks dry. They guided her into the main chamber, and Elizabeth briefly searched for her clothing, before realizing that she was to wear a fantastically embroidered ensemble.

After grasping a chair, the two women thrust Elizabeth's shoulders down, and they started tugging combs and baleen-bristled brushes through her long tresses, murmuring mindless comments. She shifted in her seat, suddenly recalling every day in the governor's mansion, when she was surrounded by countless maids who swerved at her every beck-and-call, happy to oblige the young Miss Swann. Of course, she would not reject being pampered, but the painful memories of what might have been and what was smashed as a disastrous blur as she thought of her past, present, and future. The translucent dressing gown clung to her damp flesh, and she writhed in the seat as her hair was yanked into a tidy bun. Pins were twisted between strands, and they nodded in agreement as they displayed her new outfit, accompanied by a sophisticated headdress.

Elizabeth grimaced. The vest and beading was beautifully done, but she had no desire to wear such a piece. She would rather wear pants; she enjoyed the liberation of a comfortable pair of breeches…But at least it did not include a corset. They motioned for her to stand, and Elizabeth silently followed the instructions, spreading her arms as the dressing gown was removed and then replacing it with a black-trimmed, deep red robe with intricate little leaves sprawled hither and thither. She knotted the black sash slightly to the side and then grimly stared at the high-neck vest, dreading the irritation the beads would cause against her little neck. They were now stooping to the ground with an aqua-blue long skirt, and Elizabeth quickly gathered the material and allowed the fabric to droop at her small hips. Layers upon layers. Even though the red robe was extremely light-weight, she still felt the heat building in the closed-off chamber, and she wished a window could be opened or a fan supplied.

The two women slipped the Chinese queen's last piece of wardrobe, the complexly designed blue-green vest, over her arms. Elizabeth fingered the spiraling little golden swirls across the vest and aqua-blue tassels on either side, still able to admire the complexity and pretty intent, even if the singly-sewn sparkling beads rubbed harshly against her neck anytime she made the slightly tilt of her head. Finally, the ladies glanced to the neat and tidy bun atop the woman's head, and Elizabeth knelt down so that they could situate the dreaded headdress. They wriggled it against her head until it was securely fastened and then attached clip-on dangling and glimmering earrings.

Elizabeth rose and then strode forward, gripping the diminutive side table in front of her and dipping her fingers into the besotted water that had random green leaves floating this way and that. Her lips automatically pouted as they straightened the pieces of her wardrobe, and Elizabeth couldn't help but think, once again, of why these ladies were primping her beauty to its full extent. Yes, Sao would enter any moment, she thought regrettably, and sure enough, only moments later, the captain's heavy footsteps pitter-pattered against the stairs and his robes raked against the floor as he narrated an ancient Chinese poem, dating back to those romantic times. She turned partially, gulping down her regrets and mounting in courage. She wouldn't let him. She wouldn't let him deflower her as he intended. Elizabeth's fingertips lightly patted the table, and out of the corner of her eyes, she watched each Chinese lady bow their heads and step in reverse, plastering themselves against the far wall. As she listened to the foreign pattern of his speech, Elizabeth swiveled her head, revealing nothing in her expression. She refused to allow her thoughts to scatter across her face… Not yet. 

He continued announcing every syllable, and his eyes would not leave the delicately wardrobed woman. Sao Feng's speech finished and he clapped his hands, issuing a tacit command to the ladies. They fled the room with such solemn dispositions; Elizabeth suddenly realized how they were held more captive than she ever was. 

She turned back to the man as he dipped his hand into the shallow vase and spun the leaf softly against the lapping waters. "By this time tomorrow we will arrive at Shipwreck Cove, and you will be free," he said as he flicked droplets of water away from his face. He then continued, so self-assured, "Calypso."

"Excuse me?" she asked, dumbfounded by his strange announcement. Elizabeth was Calypso? Doubtful.

He plunged his nasty fingernails into the water, rinsing them lightly, and then drying them on a clean cloth as he clarified, "Not the name you fancy, I imagine, out of the many that you have… But it is what we call you."

Elizabeth almost replied with a singe, "You have mistaken me, Sir." But then, she thought of her advantages. Perhaps she should play along. Perhaps with the "powers" of a goddess, she could whip Sao Feng into submission, instead of the other way around. It was best to play his game, just as she had with Jack and his notion of curiosity. The woman inquired calmly, "We being who?" Sao Feng lifted his eyes, and Elizabeth released a soft sigh and a quick smile. Oh, wrong choice. Wrong choice! She cursed herself… She had unveiled something that wasn't there to reveal.

"You confirm it." The captain nodded and chomped into the green leaf, crunching in the silence.

Wrong. Incorrect. Misguided. Stupid. 

Ah! Elizabeth wished she could rewind her phrase… Step back in time even for a mini-second to allow her time to have one more thought. Where had this gotten her with Jack? Yes, that was right. Burdened, guilty, and unworthy of her other half. Gulping down these terrible thoughts, Elizabeth had no other option except to continue to play his little game and pretend that in fact… She was Calypso trapped in human form. 

"Confirm what?" Elizabeth asked, taking a step back. She must play coy for now, she thought perilously, and discover why he wanted Calypso instead of the beautiful and supple Miss Swann. He followed her steps and her words grew arch, "You've told me nothing."

"The Brethren Court, not I, the first Brethren Court, whose position I would have opposed," Sao said as he circled Elizabeth like a dog and slammed his fist against the wall beam, "bound you to human form, so the rule of the seas would belong to men and not..."

He met her face-to-face, and Elizabeth finished for him, "To me." Ah, so that was the full-tale… The legend of Calypso, the woman who no longer reigned the seas, and he was intent on releasing her. The woman's eyes rolled toward him, growing smug as she realized she had power if he believed such a thing.

"But one such as you should never be anything less than what you are."

"Pretty speech from a captor," Elizabeth uttered in a whisper, her lip jutting out, but her power now wavering. The glint of his eye terrified her in that moment. He was planning something. Something she wouldn't like. She continued, recalling those words that Will had once said… About a proper marriage. Eagerness. It had filled them both and was now billowing in the waves and crashing against the rocks. "But words whispered through prison bars lose their charm."

He glided around her, their proximity close… Too close. "Can I be blamed for my efforts? All men are drawn to the sea," he said, facing her head on now, a fire blazing in his eyes and his chest glistening in the candlelight, "perilous though it may be."

Sao Feng was grinding Elizabeth's last nerve, and she knew, he wanted to employ Calypso the exact same way he would employ a gorgeous woman. "And some men offer desire as justification for their crimes," she barked, her eyes sternly fixed upon him.

"I offer simply my desire," Sao Feng kindly replied.

"And in return?" Elizabeth had to know what he would receive from an amorous embrace, even if it was a revolting notion.

"I would have your gifts, should you choose to give them," he responded lightly, almost understandably.

His expression gave way to what lay in all men's hearts. She didn't trust him. She didn't trust his placid exterior when she had seen fury behind his eyes only seconds before. Sao's eyes did not leave her face, but her body tensed, as if her clothes were transparent. She allowed a smile to creep, but it quickly vanished as she slid forward haughtily, self-assured that this would have to be mutual. She did not hope; she forced herself to believe in a mutual agreement whether it existed or not. "And if I should choose… Not?" she inquired, rising into his face, absorbing his salty, flowery breath. Damn. There the flame was. 

"Then I will take…" Burning scorching, singeing her words, and forgetting every ounce of propriety. "Your fury!" he commanded, shoving her against the vessel's beam once again, and his hands enveloped her throat. She writhed as his cracked lips sucked upon hers, and she slapped his arms and then opened her mouth, reeling him in for a moment until biting upon his lip and thrusting him away. Elizabeth's breathing was rushed as her head quivered. No, no, this wasn't going to happen. She slid along the wall. He wasn't going to… Something vibrated against her cheek, and exploded within the the _Empress_. No! A cannon had struck the junk ship and had rocked them sideways. Sao Feng tumbled to the floor, and pirates and the enemy rumbled above. The smoke was gradually clearing, and the captain came into view, splayed on the floor, his head tilted against the wall, and his eyes wide and wild. Afraid of his feral look and draining face, she cautiously asked, "Sao Feng?" 


	28. Chapter 28: Think like Jack

(OT: Well, I said I might start with Will escaping from the brig... Alas, I could not come up with a clever enough inner-dialogue or creative fresh escape, so I decided I would walk you through those moment before Jack and Will have their exchange and then through the discourse. Enjoy! Within the next one-two chapters: Elizabeth finally realizes what Will is dealing with, Beckett and his officers finding the sleeping Will draped over the body/barrel, and Elizabeth and Jack reach a certain level of closure after the Brethren meeting...)

 Gripping a flopped-over limp body by the armpits, Will skulked across the Black Pearl's deck, avoiding the gaze of Cotton and attempting to keep the dead body from clattering back to the floor. He hadn't bothered to look into the soldier's face, grasping the first body from the crew's meager pile of the deceased and managing to grab a man that, fortunately, did not reek terribly. William began to pant as he scooted across the floor, finally reaching the bow of the Pearl, where an empty rum barrel and numerous ropes were awaiting him. The man gently laid the drained body aside and seated himself, leaning his head against the vessel's side. Lolling waves lapped against the ship, and Will heard every swell and quake, suddenly thinking of those moments when he desired Jack's beloved Pearl to sink to the bottom of the ocean. He shook his head, focusing on the task before him and ignoring the possibility of getting caught if he lingered too long.

But how long could he keep going? He had lost an entire day by being imprisoned, and he now relied on this lifeless body to aid in his mission… But then again, Elizabeth had no place in that mission, did she? Will's eyes fluttered closed as he remembered her harsh touch only the day before. The way her hands has grazed against his chest and smacked him with steep force. More than enough of pirates, indeed. He had somehow molded into a pirate over these past torturous months… A fate he had attempted to reject when he first met the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow but a fate Will now accepted if it meant it would rescue his father.

Except now, not only was his father trapped aboard the Dutchman, but his beloved, his Elizabeth, belonged to Sao Feng. William rumbled to himself. Why did she not listen? Why didn't she realize what that voracious man was after? She was far too rash through her audacity and anger, and he was far too stupid to bring her into an embrace. That untamable streak in his beloved was the thing that scared and enthralled William the most. He hoped she wasn't irrational with the powerful… But at the same time, he did pray that she was impudent enough to make Sao Feng shy from her sight. If anything happened to Elizabeth that upset her more… Will could almost imagine the way she would fall. The pieces that were dangling by threads might crack and collapse if something horrid occurred.

Shaking his mind of Elizabeth's recent worrisome antics, Turner rose and resumed the task, heaving the body onto the wooden barrel and, unfortunately, glimpsing into the soldier's expression. He recognized the insipid features, and it was a revolting sight; it was Carruthers, who once watched over the prisoners in Port Royal. It stung his heart to realize even lower officers were lugged into Beckett's dastardly scheme bit by bit. It then pained him to think of those tender moments he had with Elizabeth behind bars… The way she had gripped his back when they kissed away the farewell and the way she had fondly stroked his scruffy whiskers. Will spun the man over and then situated him over the barrel with his free hand clasping the braided ropes. Used to the process, Will rapidly swathed the man in ropes and knotted them at random places, checking to secure the soldier's head and the little EITC note attached to his wrist. Wrapping his arms around the width of the barrel, Will hauled the container onto the side of the ship, gradually panting in his mounting exasperation. He tethered the longest rope and then cinched the largest knot, recollecting the expression on his father's face when he bid his son adieu and imagining Elizabeth's imminent horror of displeasure. His face twisted into an angry scowl as he removed his dagger with his right hand and quickly severed the bond. Will then lowered his weapon, twirling it lightly between his fingers. He had formed a life-or-death promise on this glimmering dagger for his father, and he swore that he would not shatter that bond. Bootstrap had done little for Will, compared to the duties of a parent, but to Will, when he was desperate to save his beloved, finding his way off the Dutchman represented everything he needed.

 "You escaped the brig even quicker than I expected," Jack's voice boomed nearby, and Will lifted his eyes to the captain, who perched comfortably over the expansive sea. The man poised his dagger, threatening Sparrow silently. "William," Jack inquired, rising from his position and gripping the ropes that were strung overhead, "Do you notice anything?" Will glanced around the bow of the vessel and then to the ocean's waves. What was he talking about? "Or rather," Jack asked lightly as he inched down the rope, "do you notice something that is not there to be noticed?"

Will surveyed the slumbering Black Pearl again and finally figured it out. Ah, so then, what was Jack's aim this gloomy evening? "You haven't raised an alarm," Will answered steadily.

With his hands still gripping the ropes, Jack stepped carefully toward William but paused as he spoke. "Odd isn't it?" he remarked with a cunning expression. "But not as odd as this," the pirate noted, his swaggering arms vaguely pointing to the body draped across the barrel. "Come up with this all my your lonesome, did you?"

It was such a small level of disgust, but Will caught every inflection, knowing not to merely trust what Jack was saying. Will was still confused as to why Jack hadn't alerted the crew of his escape or why Jack imprisoned him at all if the captain knew he would escape. With the tilt of his head and a singe in his tone, William countered, "I said to myself, think like Jack." It was a horrid remark apparently; he had only set Captain Jack up for a thin slice.

"And this," Jack claimed, pointing to the soldier again, "is what you've arrived at? Lead Beckett to Shipwreck Cove so as to gain his trust, accomplish your own ends?" There was slight, intentional lapse of silence. Jack was taunting him. "It's like you don't know me at all, mate." Will finally lowered the algae-encrusted dagger, realizing that Jack's objective deeply involved him, whether he wanted it to be part of the scheme or not. "And how does your dearly beloved feel about this?" Sparrow inquired, attempting to appeal to dear William's tender side. Ah, the boy hesitated, just as Jack desired, and turned toward the sea. "Ah, you've not seen fit to trust her with it." Will knew that Jack thought it completely understandable but entirely inconvenient for the lover boy. He was scooting along behind William now, and he finally hopped down to a position beside the young man.

Will felt it lounging on his tongue and then it rolled. His weakness… The truth of the matter. "I'm losing her, Jack," Will uttered softly, imagining that vicious shove she delivered once again and the way she had looked at him below deck. It pained him to face the facts… To face the very thing that was ripping their relationship to shreds. He had to become the Flying Dutchman's captain and slay Jones. His love for Miss Swann was something Jack always managed to use to his advantage, but Will could not stop himself. His father. His beloved. How could anyone choose one over the other without hesitancy? "Every step I make for my father is a step away from Elizabeth."

His comment was the trigger and Jack easily grasped the bullet. "Mate," he said sincerely, "if you choose to lock your heart away, you'll lose her for certain." Jack sauntered away, leaning against the Pearl's nearest wall with a certain self-assured mindset. "If I may lend a machete to your intellectual thicket- Avoid the choice all together." How could he? It was a choice he was forced to make. "Change the facts," Jack assured. "Let someone else dispatch Jones." A sleight smile diffused across his face, and Will felt Jack's eyes rolling toward him, awaiting the fantastic recognition.

"Who?" William asked, and he swiveled toward the keen pirate as it all meshed together. Jack's objective. Keeping himself and Elizabeth out of the mix… And gaining an advantage over Barbossa. "You?"

Perfect. The subject could now be pursued with ease, and Jack was free to explain himself. "Death has a curious way of reshuffling one's priorities." The captain smiled and strolled back to his position beside William. He enlightened the young man with pleasure and gestured lightly. "I slip aboard the Dutchman, find the heart, stab the beating thing… Your father goes free from his debt, and you're free to be with your charming murderess."

The memory of Miss Swann's misdeed resonated with those last words, and although it made Will desire to rebuke the title, he reasonably could not, and he realized that Jack Sparrow couldn't perform the duties without a bit of avarice. He announced with a heady voice, "And you're willing to carve out your heart and bind yourself to the Dutchman… Forever." Jack did not even flinch; Will continued to glower, attempting to cipher what would shatter the captain's big idea.

"No mate," Jack answered confidently, nearly giddy. "I'm free forever. Free to sail the seas beyond the edges of the map, free from death itself."

There it was. Jack hadn't fathomed the depth of the purpose of the Dutchman, only the benefits. "You have to do the job, though, Jack." This pirate had no idea what a sacrifice it was… But Will did. He knew too much of cause and effect, unfair consequences, and the sacrifices that are required from those and for those you love. He rose in the pirate's face and whispered, "You have to ferry souls to the next world. Or end up just like Jones." Will gestured, making a smooth stroking motion from his chin, simulating the formation of a slimy beard. What self-serving pirate could cut out his heart without woe of what was called upon him?

"Mm," Jack murmured, grimacing as his stroked his ebony mustache and chin and then twiddling his braided beard in anxiety. Will was correct in his assumption; Jack was never one to face consequences head-on. "I don't have the face for tentacles," he announced gently. "But immortal has to count for something, eh? Oh!" Jack cried lightly, glancing to his belt and removing the navigational device that dangled against his leg, offering it to Will.

Will cautiously grasped the black and tan compass, puzzled by the offering. He knew this was, indeed, a unique compass, but he knew where his heart lied… Will just wasn't certain if his heart had a place to lie. "What's this for?" He tilted the compass in his hand, curious what Jack had created within a matter of minutes.

Will continued to stare at the navigational device, tempted to flip it open. "Think like me; it'll come to you," Jack remarked solemnly and then, William felt Jack's figure glide closer, and as he lifted his eyes, the pirate exhaled a pungent puff of rum-soaked breath, so terrible that it made Will stumble backward and catapult overboard with a solid splash. He thrashed through the chilling water, bursting through the surface with a slight gasp as he attempted to locate Jack's smug expression and the vessel's gangway. Damn that man. Dear naïve William was once again foiled by his own plan and literally tossed to the sea. But now, a barrel was plummeting over the side of the ship and bouncing in the welling waves. "My regards to Davy Jones!" Jack shouted, tapping his head lightly in an eager wave.

Lifting his arms as high as possible above the bubbling ocean and still gripping the unique compass, Will stroked toward the wooden barrel and hoisted himself on top of insipid body, sputtering out swallowed water and panting from the cold. How could he do this? "I hate him," Will growled impetuously, gritting his teeth as another wave crashed over his head.


	29. Chapter 29: Mended Ways

(OT: This must be quick because I have to get up early tomorrow and it is about time to go to sleep. Okay, here we go. This chapter was going to be both Will and Elizabeth, but I decided I really wanted a little Norrington in there, since he had such a small role in the third (which was so wrong to me!) so I decided to do a little of their last scene together and then on to the Empress. I also wanted to explain how Captain Swann got her Chinese wardrobe... Just because one of the critics, Ebert, I think it was, said that somehow, Keira Knightley managed to find a wardrobe unit, a vanity, and a bath (hence my details in the last chapter about her.) So here this one is. Big realization and a little sappy at the end. My apologies, but I had to get it out somehow. Next will be more flipping back and forth when I have more time! Ok, here you go and enjoy! Thanks for all the comments!)

James tugged Elizabeth behind him and with a piercing sound, he removed his sword, looking to the man descending toward them. "Go, I will follow," he ordered sternly, averting his eyes from the woman's face.

The woman gazed at his blank expression, but his eyes flickered in the tension. She wasn't going to let him go, and she refused to allow anyone to leave her. "You're lying," she weakly barked, wishing that she was wrong. Wishing that she hadn't seen that expression upon his face.

Norrington swiveled his head, gazing into Elizabeth deep brown eyes. The eyes he had loved the moment he recognized her as a fine woman, even though he was rejected time after time. "Our destinies have been entwined, Elizabeth... But never joined." James tilted his head, unfamiliar with this action, but feeling the moment swelling. He had wanted her as his lavish bride and had yearned to wake up beside her. This was his farewell. He could not retreat from everything he had turned his back on, but he could not allow Elizabeth to slip away without a token of his love. His lips grazed against hers. James felt the spark, her lips lightly sucking upon his even though it was not passionate.

His light breezy breath mingled with her own as they kissed, and she did not have the notion to try to push him away. At first, she just allowed the kiss and then, at the last moment, realizing what he was doing and what this meant, she opened her mouth a little and sent their almost marriage into his moist mouth. Her eyes fluttered open, staring into his aching face and growing angry that he couldn't just accept this and come with her. "Go! Now!" he partially shouted, and with her jaw set it anger and depression, Elizabeth crawled onto the side and slung her legs around the rope and began her trek toward the Empress' green deck. Norrington's deep voice boomed behind her, "Back to your station, sailor." She heard Bootstrap mutter something and James' strict voice rumble again, ordering Bootstrap to back down. Please, listen. Elizabeth tilted back her head, saw Norrington's decorated sword poised for battle, and then ordered herself not to look again. Please, don't slay Will's father. Don't let this happen. Her prayers turned to God, and she silently whispered as she writhed around the rope.

"Part of the crew, part of the ship!" Bootstrap's voice rose and echoed across the silent ocean. "Part of the crew, part of the SHIP! Part of the crew, part of the ship!" Elizabeth's stomach quivered, telling her a remorseful story she didn't want to hear. The worrisome blood coursed through her veins as she accelerated her speed, shouting for the Chinese men to make haste.

"Steady man!" Norrington cried futilely, but Bootstrap was raging, his eyes wild and his footsteps heavy.

"Part of the crew, part of the ship! ALL HANDS, PRISONER ESCAPE!"

There was scurrying of feet as James attempted to calm Bootstrap again and halt any further awakenings. "Belay that!" he hollered, glancing over his shoulder to the struggling woman.

Elizabeth ducked her head to witness James fervidly yanking a little pistol out of his mustard yellow jacket, and she felt his life crumbling. Davy Jones would discover them, and she would never reunite with Will again. "JAMES!" she screeched, sobs already racking her voice.

Norrington stared over his shoulder as Elizabeth winded her lithe limbs in a forward motion, attempting to move toward the Empress but her muffled weeping forcing her to scoot carefully and slowly. With a twisted frown, James hoisted and cocked the pistol in the air and then fired upon the line between the two vessels. He listened to his love scream as she cascaded into the dark ocean, and he had no choice. Norrington decided that he must silence Bootstrap. But as he spun back around, Bootstrap speared the military man without a hint of remorse, lunging with horrid force. He moaned as he staggered, unable to respond and unable to defend.

Elizabeth thrashed to the surface, spinning in place to see the bow of the Flying Dutchman. Perhaps he would leap after her... She knew it was a futile thought. Maybe Bootstrap would come back to his right mind… Although Elizabeth hadn't expected any less, she was still utterly stunned and squealed violently as James' feeble figure shrunk to the corner of the stern, a sword through his torso. "James!" she shrieked, lashing the water beneath the surface in infuriation. "No!" Elizabeth continued to bawl, rising her voice as James' grew still. It was an elongated refusal that emerged as her frail body was absorbed in the chill. "No..ohh!" Tears streamed down her cheeks, but they blended with water droplets, and she heard Tai Huang commanding the men and weighing anchor. Forced to leave James to his final death call, Elizabeth stroked toward the Empress, visibly quivering as a foreign man offered his hand and pulled her onto the deck.

Captain Swann, as it was, absentmindedly trudged up the staircase, leaving Tai Huang to direct the vessel. Her moist hands trembled, and her intricately designed robe adhered to her arms and legs, the water only bringing reality even more in focus. Elizabeth was failing them. No, she thought, she HAD failed them. She had neglected, disappointed, and failed Jack, her father, her dearest friend, and of course, her dearly beloved, Will. She stomped down the staircase, flipping off her strappy black shoes in the process and releasing her blonde locks from the sagging and mussed bun. By not trusting herself and by forgetting her heart, Elizabeth had created such a strong wall that it dealt out death cards. Failure. She was preventing Will from saving his decrepit father. As she strode into the elaborate but slightly disarrayed chamber, Elizabeth untied the black sash and allowed the robe to dangle from her waist until it finally crumpled to the floor. Her long pants soon followed, and she stood entirely naked in that large room.

Opening a nearby closet, she tugged out a new Chinese wardrobe, that she could only assume belonged to Sao Feng, and draped it over her damp arm. She also withdrew a black tunic with armor at that collar, and not even bothering to dry herself, she slipped on the dress and the heavy intricately detailed jacket that was fastened by several golden buttons that trailed past her thighs. Her mind remained blank as she fastened the pants at the waist and tugged the curled-toe black boots over her wet bare feet. The jacket and three-buckled contraption swallowed her waif figure, so she recovered a wide black bejeweled belt that attached to long armor plates and wrapped it about her mid-waist. She squeaked at the tautness of the belt, and yet, Elizabeth would or rather, could not loosen it.

After rummaging through a few drawers, she found gauntlets to protect her arms with corset-like ties down the middle of them. Attaching them to her forearms, Elizabeth turned on her heels and trotted into the bathing alcove and quickly found her old weapons, still neatly arranged on the side table. She gripped the personalized saber, fingering the initials for a moment before sliding it into its sheath alongside her left leg. As she strolled toward the entryway, a slight glint caught her eye and she found herself gliding in front of a jaggedly cracked mirror. The woman tilted her head to one side and then to the other. She noticed that there were heart-shape gold designs across her chest, and she was reminded of the sacrifice that had been weighing on Mr. Turner's shoulders. The woman realized how torturous these months must have been… Trying to figure out whether Elizabeth loved him or not and realizing that his father was in grave danger of losing his mind on that ship. As she re-fastened her hair in a lower bun, she continued to gaze blankly into the looking glass. Oh what sorrow she had caused. Did she think that her daddy would mend her broken promises and fix every little thing that went wrong? No, she had never truly believed that… But it was a dream she always had. That she would breeze through life as she pleased, floating with the tide and wind and curling beside William at night. She must have been crazy! Elizabeth shook her head, beginning to instinctively pace at her discomfort. Elizabeth had truly deceived and tortured them all at one time or another! All they wanted was to give Miss Swann whatever she desired or required, and she had shunned them and hurt them and lashed them with her spite and words. Angry tears trickled down her cheeks. Oh stupid girl! Stupid, insolent girl! She had weaseled her way into piracy, into what she wanted or thought she wanted, and now it was her time to turn things around, gain her revenge, and tell Will that they were meant to be. That she was so ignorant about herself and everything. Elizabeth could not lose him, and she could not let him lose his father either. Plopping on the final piece of the ensemble, a Chinese influenced hat, she marched up the stairs, kicking her flimsy black shoes to the side and glowered at Tai Huang, who was at the helm, confidently steering them toward Shipwreck Cove. With the flame burning, the man kindly moved away.

"Captain Swann," he murmured lightly and trotted away.

Yes, Miss Swann was no more. She was no longer that little governor's daughter who allowed the world to whirl around her and then she kindly stepped in or aside on a whim. She had to have faith in this mission, in this vengeance…And she finally regained that trust in herself.


	30. Chapter 30: Value

(OT: Arg! That is my anger for this section.. Only because of one little detail. Right after the phrase, "Sparrow?" there is supposed to be a seperator of some sort. A few dots, dashes, something to seperate the locations and point of views, but for some reason this document will not save them. I apologize. So after "Sparrow?" you are transported to Shipwreck Cove with Elizabeth. I actually quite like this chapter other than that little detail.

NEXT UP: How Parlay came to be in that scene, Elizabeth and Will share an important moment before the maelstrom, and then... The marriage of one William Turner and Elizabeth Swann. Of course, then you have the elongated beach scene (excited for that one!) and the ten years later one. And then, sadly, the end. Enjoy! And watch for the rating near the end.. Haha. Elizabeth and Will on the beach. Enough said.)

William's still figure lurched over the hollow barrel, the ropes strapped at his waist and rubbing harshly against his muscular torso. He drowsily lifted his head, and his surroundings gradually focused along with the fact that a mahogany brown East India Trading Company longboat was stroking toward him. After swiping the stinging seawater from his eyes, Will squinted, attempting to decide who resided in the vehicle. With his permanent scowl and dreary eyes, Mercer rested the farthest away from the bow, and William rapidly unfastened the ropes, propping himself up uneasily on his elbows. The barrel tumbled over a flushing white wave, and Will ducked his head and gripped the ropes again. Glancing at the red striped marks on his hands, he thought, well, at least Sparrow knew where he sent him. If William was monitoring his decisions by the signals in his heart, he would know not to trust the EITC, but alas, he was forced to believe that even the worst man in the world could hold to a reasonable bargain... Especially if they had an advantage.

"You'll be coming with us," the foremost man said, flanking the stranded man.

"With pleasure," Will answered with a grimace, vigilantly clambering into the longboat and glancing to Mercer's displeased expression. Leaving the barrel to its fate, the men grasped the oars and began to paddle toward the Endeavor's gangway. "I need to talk to Lord Beckett," Will declared, wiping back his loose chocolate brown strands and wringing out his shirttails.

"Or else you would not be here," Mercer said, glaring at Will's unkempt situation.

Will lowered his eyes, knowing there was nothing further to reveal, and they were soon scaling the galleon's built-in ladder. As soon as his black boots grazed against the deck, Mercer clasped his arm, and Will realized that all along, shackles were clanging at his waist. "I assure you, imprisoning me is not necessary. I don't intend on leaping back into the sea."

Although taking the comment into account, Mercer still did not release William's arm and guided him into the captain's candlelit quarters. He slung open the door and interrupted Beckett's scheming ponderings at the window. "Sir," Mercer uttered gruffly, "a visitor for you." He paused when the lord continued to stare into the black abyss mindlessly. He then said with precise annunciation, "William Turner."

"Mr. Turner?" Lord Beckett spun around, his short figure even menacing within the shadows. "Did you run out of bodies so soon?"

Will yanked out of the crinkled man's grip and stalked toward Lord Beckett. "I would not be here if it was not by Jack Sparrow's doing," the man said as he clenched his fists. Ignoring the chill that fanned against him, Will organized every thought that had popped into his mind while he tossed about the swirling waves.

Somberly seating himself at a small table and grasping the handle of a beautifully designed teapot, Beckett said, "And what news do you bear from the _Black Pearl_?"

Will was absolutely blunt, knowing he could not waste time taunting Beckett or playing games. "I have valuable information that could help you," Will said, squaring his eyes and setting his jaw in a stern expression, only allowing his eyes to flicker in response to Beckett's nod. "Are you familiar with the goddess, Calypso?" He had to arrange each comment perfectly into place.

Beckett's eyebrows furrowed for a moment. "Not just a legend, I hear," he replied with an arrogant grin.

"No," Will said, sliding into a moist seat across from the lord and accepting Beckett's offer of the beverage. He then remarked, "You may desire to have Davy Jones in our presence for this conversation." It wasn't just a request; it was a demand, but Will kept his tone steady, not wanting to appear desperate for his side to win. He placidly grasped the little teacup and set it gently on the saucer, waiting for the drink to cool.

Beckett apparently agreed, for he beckoned Mercer to his side, commanded him to call upon Davy Jones, and then returned to staring into Turner's face. "Do inform me of this 'valuable' information."

"I imagine you have gained knowledge about Shipwreck Cove," Will said, measuring his wager and hoping that he contained enough information to tempt Beckett. He watched the white-wigged man carefully as he smiled with such conceit. Oh, it was quite intolerable to remain in his presence. Perhaps the brig would have been better.

"Indeed, Jack was very deliberate in outlining some of the details concerning Shipwreck Cove's impenetrable status," Beckett replied with a leveling blaze, eyeing Turner's quiet observations as he continued, "But he failed in directing us to the destination... That is, until you started your little corpse trail." Another coy smile, perhaps even a little admiration for William's willing betrayal of his so-called friend.

"The Brethren Court, consisting of the pirate lords from around the world, are convening in Shipwreck Cove," Will said, slowly inhaling his courage and malicious intent. He couldn't hold back, even if the words caught in his throat. What if Elizabeth was already injured or dead by Beckett's means? Will couldn't allow those thoughts to seep through... She was fine. She would be fine. "And their sole purpose is to release the goddess from her human form."

Beckett remained silent, tilting back in his chair and contemplating this new information. Will observed him as his eyes slowly opened and closed and watched his ruffled cuffs flap as he tapped his fingers on the table. "And if they release Calypso, as they call her..."

Will interjected, thinking that Beckett was, without a doubt, not certain of what the goddess' powers consisted of. "She will gain the rule of the seas, and they are hoping that if they release her, she will kindly spare the pirates."

The short man nodded solemnly and then a cunning half-smile emerged as he used a small pronged tool to grasp a white sugar cube. "Would you-?"

"Yes, thank you," Mr. Turner said with a certain intensity in his stomach. Beckett plopped the cube into his lovely teacup without hesitancy, and they both lightly turned in their seats when the heavy, uneven footsteps pounded against the ship's deck. Will felt it bubbling beneath Cutler Beckett's exterior. He was finally seeing his value... Not as a dull, love-struck boy, but a betraying, cunning man. What a shift that was, William thought with partial disgust.

Davy Jones charged into the chamber, thrusting aside a calm soldier as he growled in his intimidating Scottish accent, "I cannot be summoned like some mongrel PUP."

With his back to the squid-face, Will sighed and sipped upon the warm brown tea, savoring the flavor in his mouth as Beckett said, "Apparently you can." He felt Lord Beckett's eyes lift to his face. "I believe you know each other."

William was now haughty and prepared for any conference with the slimy git, as Jack Sparrow oh-so-fondly called him. He swiveled his head and delivered a nod of recognition to the former captain, complacently turning back to his beverage.

"Ah-ha-ha!" Jones' laughed, leaning over Will's body and eagerly replying, "Come to join my crew again, Master Turner?"

It was more of a stable statement than a question, but Will countered, "Not yours." He glanced to Beckett. "His." As William lifted his teacup to his pale lips, he paused and swiveled back to Davy Jones, recalling Jack's last snide remark to him. Oh yes, that would satisfy his own pride very well.

"Jack Sparrow sends his regards."

By the blank, exasperated expression on the tortured man's face, Will forced himself not to smile. Just he suspected, Davy was in oblivion of the bigger picture, meaning, perhaps, it could bebe employed in his efforts to save his father, himself, and Elizabeth.

"Sparrow?"

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As the cornucopia of sailors scurried onto their vessels and into the sailor's barracks, Captain Swann plunked on Shipwreck Cove's main dock, slinging her legs with her graceful feet barely grazing against the water's edge. She thought of the ridiculous arguments and the pirates' raucous behavior that had disturbed every bit of the peace... Repeatedly. She never understood quarrels such as that. Physical actions came into play only when it was required, not when some blubbering fool, or rather, blubbering pirate, said the wrong thing. She shook her head, fingering the armor plates draped across her chest subconsciously and mindlessly staring into the glinting water, polluted from the massive wreckages but glimmering from the fantastic structures.

"How's it feel to have a title?"

Elizabeth nearly leapt out of her skin, spinning quickly with her hand on the hilt of her sabre in a defense mechanism. But then, she recognized the rum-soaked voice and his quirky movements as he swaggered above her. The rich voice had voted in her favor and had forced her to develop into a woman instead of a selfish little governor's daughter. "It's good to be the king," she leveled with a joyous smile, pondering what responsibilities she may be endowed with now.

Captain Jack Sparrow observed the contours of Elizabeth's face twitch and smile, and he relished in her automatic response. To fight. He couldn't have expected any less. The captain watched the woman raise her dangling feet, scramble to spin around, and then rise almost face-to-face with him. As he gazed at her elaborate Chinese silks, he realized how much living this woman had accomplished in a matter of months. Elizabeth had by hook or by crook survived the _Dutchman's _death sentence, that of which he had scarcely thwarted (with a little help), and as she was staring at him, Jack witnessed the pain elevate beneath her lovely brown eyes. She still wasn't quite right, but she was certainly more healed than when he had first seen her. "You do have a way of landing on your feet, no matter the circumstances," he remarked as he cocked a half-smile, recalling every time she had tricked the scalawag.

"Indirect pirate blood, I suppose," Elizabeth said quietly, allowing the silence to settle between them. Glancing to the glitz of the city, the woman shifted from one elfish slipper to another and then began to tread down the stretch of the docks, hoping Jack would pursue her.

That he did. After robotically straightening his tricorn leather hat, he followed the light pitter-patter of her footsteps with his trademark saunter.

"Why did you vote me as king, Jack?" Elizabeth could not hold it back any longer. She wasn't entirely mystified by the spontaneous election, but... Something besides the fact that they both wanted to fight bounced in her mind. When he had spoken her royal name, she had grinned and was finally satisfied that Jack knew her value, but then again...Jack was a hard man to figure. Elizabeth continued, recalling Sparrow's first words to her. "As far as pirate lord goes, I thought they were "'just giving the bloody title away.'"

"You were on my side," Jack brusquely said, thinking of what might have happened if Calypso were unleashed upon the seas for her final rule. What a bloody terror that would be, especially with Barbossa at the faux reign. "And there was no hidden agenda with dear William off on his own mission," he added, explaining the supreme truth without any interwoven lies. Now that Elizabeth was captain, king, and all the other titles she might have gained while he was chatting with crabs, there was no possible sense in deceiving her... That is... As long as she didn't ask what he was lying _about_. What good manipulation could come from that? Another salacious kiss? No, thank you, Miss Swann.

"After all," he said without worrying for her emotions over the sensitive subject, "that is what it's about, isn't it? Finding ways to get exactly what we want?"

Elizabeth nodded solemnly as she paused mid-step, swiveling toward the pirate and immediately grasping his bony elbow, gazing directly into his soulful brown eyes. She gulped every quiver that had fluttered when they had pranced and crooned on that island, every hinting desire that yearned to be slaked, and every tremor that made her want to slap him for his own sins. What attraction she had felt for Jack had descended and dissolved months ago... If they ever really existed, but there was an undeniable similarity in disposition that she could not escape from... Perhaps she was now prepared to accept it and take it with a confident stride as he did.

"We're alike in many ways, Jack." There was a quavering beat between them. She had never seen Jack's expression alter so drastically. Turn so... Grave and serious. "Too much for our own good," Elizabeth said with a peculiar smile, the woman's fingers crunching his arm before sliding away.

"Cuttlefish," he uttered, noting the way her countenance had grown so pale... So lifeless that moment. Guilt was a tender emotion if it really struck your core, but Jack had always avoided those horrid emotions because usually, his actions were justified in his bizarre mind.

"Cuttlefish," she repeated softly. Elizabeth's skin creased in a smile, her wonky teeth gleaming against the moonlight and her hands patting the sides of her Chinese skirt. Some spark had ignited, some spark of recognition of one another. Something that she could never tell Will... Or at least fully clarify to him. And then, Captain Sparrow's brief words slapped her across the cheek.

_"Where's Will?"_

_"Not among us."_

Suddenly, those little black dots connected, and stars crashed into the ocean with the plunging of her heart. He wasn't at Shipwreck Cove. He wasn't aiding in planning their attack methods, and he wasn't here to apologize to. "Jack," she said cautiously, the name lolling on her tongue and no longer absorbed in the poisonous sting. "He won't come here, will he?" What had he done? "Will is the traitor."

Jack sighed, attempting to arrange his words in the most soothing way possible without affecting the two lovers' relationship too significantly. How ever did he get mixed up in that mess? Oh yes, when dear William fetched him from the brig with the exhaling of his perfect name and the love of a dolly-belle in his eyes. But if Will were to act on Jack behalf without actually knowing how the pirate was exploiting him... He could not risk blithely giving away every tid-bit of information to Captain Swann, who had a fervent tendency to dive into the deep end if she thought it was necessary. The pirate strode ahead, feeling the intimidating Elizabeth circle him before perching on the left side. "William," he began slowly, picking his words carefully, "is aboard the _Endeavor_ and I can honest-to-God assure you that he will know his way around Lord Cutler Beckett."

That last name emerged severely, which only made Elizabeth less certain of Jack's simple story. That is, after all, what all his schemes and details and plans were. They were legendary elaborated stories. But then again, together the two of them were such opposites from the people that betrayed one another and fought passionately on Isla Cruces. The woman nodded as they reached the end of the grating docks and swiveled on their heels, and then she murmured, "I'm going to fix things with Will, you know." She had no idea what compelled her to tell Jack. Matters of the heart never appealed to the rogue, unless they concerned himself somehow.

Will wants the same, Jack almost remarked, but he held back, allowing Elizabeth to sullenly gaze back into the guttural and vibrant city lights. She left Jack just a few steps behind, and he gazed at her ebony embroidered black back. He had desired her company at one point, that much was true. Actually, he wanted as close to this woman as possible and as far away from her at the same time. But who was he to admit that he actually considered tying himself down to Miss Swann? It was drivel within minutes. It was irrational within hours. And it was insane within days. The blooming affection for Elizabeth had faded after their insatiable kiss, and he never thought he would see her again... Nor did he want to be tempted once more.

"Do you forgive me?" she abruptly asked, stilting the conversation and surprising Jack. Their thoughts had intersected... Again. Elizabeth did not shift. Instead of turning to face him, she just allowed the pirate to merely stare at her back. Could she bear to see his face flicker with revelation that she was still torturing herself over that horrid moment in time? Could she even look at him without breaking into extreme apologies? No, she thought it would be completely unwise to turn.

The pirate captain watched her shoulders tremble, and he loathed that. He loathed when women wept because he had no reliable comforting skills... So reasonably, he changed the topic."So you'll be directing the _Empress_ into battle, then?"

"What?" Elizabeth spun around to face him, her face fixed in a convoluted expression.

"Your ship?" he clarified, rocking on his heels before gesturing to the junk vessel. He wanted this little ploy to work. It was much more better than facing her tete-a-tete.

"Oh," she released a heavy sigh. Elizabeth realized if he changed the subject once, he would change it again without woe. "I think," she started her voice quivering and then clearing, "the _Black Pearl_ needs me. That is, if she'll still have me."

The glint in her brown eyes and the way the shimmering moon cast shadows across her face made her seem so coy and elegant. Who was he to turn the Pirate King down?

"Very well, then, Your Majesty." He grinned broadly, swept his hat off into his right hand, and bowed to the King. "Welcome aboard, love."

The friendly pair stared at one another in suspended disbelief, unable to fathom what had occurred in that single doting nickname. It vibrated through both of them when they realized he had refused to employ any sort of endearment for the pirate lady. But now, apparently that had changed, and Elizabeth took it as his offering of amnesty. She shrugged and then he replaced his tricorne hat, both recalling their encounter when she was outfitted in boys' trousers and smudged with dirt. Suddenly, Jack was trodding ahead of Elizabeth, leaving her to curiously realize that Jack's mystic compass no longer swayed at his belt.


	31. Chapter 31: Calypso's Fury

(OT: Well, this one has a lightish feel until the end... The marriage thoughts, that is. I hope I did their passion justice. The first part is actually bits of the leaked script, but I added a few more lines and added a little meat. The second part is very simliar to what the script had before the maelstrom, but it really wasn't enough so I kindly elaborated on their reunion.

Now, it is **up to you.** Do you want me to go one with the maelstrom, cover Will fighting his father, Elizabeth fighting Jones, Will stabbing the heart, Elizabeth being lifted away on the parachute with Jack etc OR do you want me to go straight to the beach scene? I'm very indifferent to either choice, so I figured I would ask what my reviewers would like to see before I take off with the love scene(s). Enjoy! And thanks for any input! )

Lord Cutler Beckett's armada drifted miles away, their ominous colors flapping in the breeze, and their huge vessels formally ordered with the _Flying Dutchman_ and the _HMS Dauntless_ gliding side by side. The crews of the Brethren gazed in utter shock, gradually retracting their glinting weapons and their mouths dropping in awe one by one.

"Surrounded," Barbossa spattered over Jack and Elizabeth, his scraggily graying beard floating in the light breeze.

"Trapped," Jack added without feeling, unable to produce a clever comment.

Elizabeth glanced around the flabbergast crew, unbelieving that none of these pirates had formed an alternative strategy. "Anyone have any ideas?" she asked aloud, her eyes rotating from the two captains to the blank-faced crew. Oh, you must be joking. Not one had a brilliant ploy? Suddenly, Pintel's tubby hand rose into the air. Elizabeth reluctantly arched her eyebrows, knowing that really, all that man was good for was stories. She made a slight gesture with her hand, and his yellow teeth twinkled as he grinned broadly.

"Parlay?" he asked confidently.

"Now there's a thought," Elizabeth muttered, shifting her gaze to Barbossa and Jack who were both grimacing and shaking their heads. Just because they did not come up with the scheme did not mean it would not work, she thought irritably.

Barbossa argued, "They'll never agree to parlay. We've nothing to offer."

Elizabeth contemplated that fact. No gold, no letters... Nothing that you could grip in the palm of you hand, but then again, her stare squared off with Jack Sparrow, and he was smiling. Her eyes dropped to his brown and black buckled leather belt, where his various artifacts dangled, except for the lovely little black and tan compass. Will was no longer of use to the East India Trading Company and was aboard the _Endeavor_. Jack was aboard the _Pearl_ and had his own decisive ways of creating a scheme in a matter of minutes. Perfect. She stepped toward Jack, about to propose the idea of trading him for Will, when Ragetti chimed into the conversation, careening over the bow of the _Black Pearl._

"A signal!" he screeched, pointing fervently to the _Endeavor_. "They're asking for parlay!"

Sure enough, the _Endeavor_ was hoisting a simple flag into the air, and Mercer's lanky arms were strangly gesturing the proposition. Elizabeth sighed and cast a side-glance to Jack to see his expression reflect her own. Satisfied. Excited. They both wanted this in the most opposite ways possible. He wanted Davy Jones' heart, and Elizabeth wanted Will's. "Then I suppose we'll have to meet," Elizabeth remarked, crossing her arms and tilting her chin upward.

"Great minds think alike, they do!" Pintel added, pleased as he chucked Ragetti in the arm.

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William dotingly offered his hand, and Elizabeth eagerly grasped it as she stepped down from the side of the _Black Pearl,_ her unfastened blonde tresses swirling around her ears as she was pulled into him. She automatically draped both hands across his muscular chest, fingering the curve of his soft black jacket and staring into his eyes. "There can be no secrets between us anymore," she gravely whispered.

"No, there can't," he returned, relishing in her touch. Oh, how good it felt to have her back in his arms. To feel her embrace was so luxuriant. His hands slithered down her slender arms and then gripped her wiry thin waist, his fingers rubbing against the festooned high belt, but his brown doe-eyes never leaving her face.

"I'm sorry, Will," she uttered tenderly, enjoying the way his hands were pulsing even through her thick layers. "I was selfish and stupid this entire time. I understand that your father needs you and that you need him," she inhaled and exhaled, and he didn't speak, knowing she had more to release. Elizabeth had rehearsed this the night before, had made certain to evoke every single tear that evening so that they would not dribble during this discourse. "So don't choose, Will."

"What?" William asked, shaking his head in confusion and fright. Was she saying she didn't want him? He gripped her tautly, and now her delicate face was buried against his coat, and her little figure was quavering. "Elizabeth..." he started gently.

"No, Will." She shoved off of his maroon blouse but stayed in his arms, glancing to his calloused warm hands in comfort. Tears did not bloat or leave deep streaks in her masked cheeks. She held them back, but she inhaled sharply as she uttered, "Don't do this. Don't choose me over your father. I...I... Love you, but this is now between you and your father, not a choice between your father and me." She slipped out of his grasp, but he continued to clasp her hand.

"Elizabeth." It was all he could murmur. He wanted to say more, but droplets of rain began to streak across the deck and then they slammed out every ounce of Calypso's fury, screeching the sirens of the past and forewarning of the impending squall. The young woman was striding toward Barbossa's still figure, and Will sullenly strolled behind Elizabeth as the rain drenched his articles of clothing. He desired to bring her back into his embrace, kiss her parched, pale lips, promise that he would never leave her, and then descend into the perfect world. But he was incapable. If he saved his father, he lost that ability.

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Calypso's vehemence reigned the ocean's whirlpool, swirling the _Black Pearl_ and the _Flying Dutchman_ into near oblivion and suspending increments of time. Crew members slung themselves across the whirling vortex, transferring from one ship to the other repeatedly with mighty screams of hopeful triumph as the exhausting cannons fired and raged war over the stretch of sea. Elizabeth swerved in the blinding torrent, her eyes barely managing to flicker open in time, and her actions stiff from the shivering cold. She thought of nothing else. Only this moment was important. Only this battle and vengeance for her father vibrated in her mind. She lunged and stabbed one person after another, even those soldiers that she once spoke to and teased.

Will was on the opposite side of the vessel, his elegant long black jacket now feeling like one thousand bricks and the pit of his stomach lurching with every demented fish member he sliced open. But now, his blurred choice over the past year was wavering and then clearing as the burden thickened upon him. He had to do something... And he couldn't leave this earth without knowing... Without telling her... His sword was suddenly acting on its own, pouncing on slimy disgusting human beings and avoiding the pitching of the vessel.

"ELIZABETH!" he roared over the storm, groaning as he parried a blow from one of the fish-people and shoving the revolting man off balance and taking one step closer to his beloved. He ducked and grasped the black mast as the man leapt after Will, his sword raking through the air but missing William's head by mere inches.

Elizabeth veered toward his voice; the voice of William Turner. The one she had repeatedly rejected and wanted but couldn't rightfully call her own. Witnessing his struggle as he spun around the crew member, the sopping pair mindlessly slashed their weapons through the slick person's stomach. She panted as she turned away, but now Will was grasping her arm and saying her breathy name and fervently desiring her attention. Now? NOW? In the midst of a maelstrom?

"Elizabeth," he repeated as his hands gripped her moist elbow tautly. They were finally standing still, across from one another, and her slender fingers were gripping his wet elbow as well. "Will you marry me?" he released, every ounce of passion coursing through his veins and sloshing in his pounding head.

What? Ma-marry? Now? Elizabeth wanted to scream at him, her eyes widening and her jaw gaping open. That would be insane. In the middle of a storm, and he asked her that! She suddenly twisted out of his grip, hearing the exultant grunt of another crew member and her personalized sabre dodging another harsh and unfortunate blow. The couple hacked at the manic member that was attacking Elizabeth, and as her sword clashed with another she screeched, "I don't think now's the best time!" Elizabeth swung left and right, stooping and veering and bending as she warded off another blow and severed a man's arm and gritty stomach.

Will was yanked to the side with his own duel, but he was relentless on the tender subject. He couldn't let the opportunity slip away like he had so many times before. He couldn't wait. His heart couldn't wait. "Now may be the only time!" he shouted across the deck, chocolate strands plastering to his face as he deflected a blow from a buttoned-up EITC soldier.

Slash left. Slash right. Up. Down. And through the stomach with a potent rumble as she thrust the perishing man to the floor. She had told him, though. Elizabeth did not want to be chosen like this. Not when his father was still suffering... Still being tortured so mercilessly. She galloped toward the mast again, where she had delivered that fateful kiss to Jack, and William clasped her arm and tugged her close to his damp face. "I love you," he uttered once again, the words so sweet on his tongue and singeing Elizabeth's heart. She was to reject this invitation? Possibly the last one? They weren't getting out of this battle, that much she was nearly certain of. They were separated by fuming soldiers, and Elizabeth and Will thwarted their blows with ease, switching sides and grasping arms once again. "I've made my choice," he expressed right into her face, breathing into her drooping, saturated lips. "What's yours?"

This was it. She did not desire to wait any longer. Keeping his eye contact and knowing she would confuse him greatly, Elizabeth screeched to the captain, "Barbossa!" She watched his face twitch in agitation and mystification. What was she doing? "Marry us!" she bellowed, and Will's expression released as he realized her intent. Yes, yes, that was the way. That was a way! Elizabeth knew the captain would be a bit... Puzzled by the suggestion, but she wasn't intending on marrying herself off.

"I'm a little busy at the moment!" Barbossa countered, slashing his own battle.

Pulling on each other's arms, they veered in opposite directions and continued the battle of Davy Jones' eerie crew and devoted soldiers. Elizabeth couldn't believe she had done that, and Will was absolutely content with the proposal as well. "Barbossa, NOW!" Will shouted, still positioned in front of the mast and gazing through the misty and stinging rain as he attempted to locate the captain's stance. Will poured through the chaotic throng and slinked against Elizabeth's cold, wet back, wrapping one arm around her waist and making her turn her head with a smile so that their noses were almost grazing. Oh, what strange bliss this was!

"Fine then!" With his sword poised, the captain clambered onto the platform with one hand draped over his heart and declared, "Dearly beloved, we be gathered here today..." he trailed off, lunging for Jones' crew and stabbing and kicking a man as he growled, "To nail ye gizzards to the mast, ye proxy cur!"

"What?" Elizabeth barely uttered as the pair separated once again, circling the mast before meeting again, pressing their clammy palms against one another with a giddy smile. So their vows would be done independently. So be it.

"Elizabeth Swann," Will hastily asked. "Do you take me to be your husband?" He wanted nothing more than this. He desired nothing more than knowing she would be bonded to him equally.

"I do!" her voice rose a few pitches as her white teeth glimmered, her feet shuddering on the floor. It was such a jubilant feeling in her bones... Knowing that he was going to be part of her and knowing... Actually _not _knowing what was going to happen next, whether for better or for worse.

"Great!" Will merrily grinned at their chaotic ceremony, but before any further vows could be announced, Elizabeth's smile strangled and fell, and they were abruptly divided, ducking beneath soldiers' menacing scowls and fish-people's horrid appearance to discover that bond again. As Elizabeth bent slightly at the waist, she offered her hand, and then they were gripping one another's palm and wielding their swords in defense. It was just part of the game, they thought mutually, vibes quivering through the skin contact.

"Will Turner! Do you take me..." she thrust her sword, parried a blow, and then swiveled toward her almost husband, smiling as she finished, "To be your wife?" She arched her hand, and he twirled her in the opposite direction, his expression that of pure glee. They writhed and groaned and grunted as they pierced one man after another. "In sickness and in health!" He was suddenly grasping her slim waist from behind and lifting her almost off her feet as they shielded and stabbed in unison. "With health being less likely?!" She yanked her sabre out of the slippery conk-shelled stomach. It was a difficult reality, but they were both willing to grasp it if they were to spend every awful day together. She slipped out of his taut grip, now taking several steps away and his face becoming increasingly anxious as he shoved and wielded his way through the scattered throng. His arm wrapped around his beloved... His wife. And dipped her slightly. "I do," he replied fervidly, and as raindrops clustered on her eyelashes, she released a little smile. Will and Elizabeth Turner stooped to the ground and rose together without a single glance at the other.

"As captain," Barbossa cried, even though Elizabeth and Will had entirely forgotten about the make-shift priest. What a fine day to marry! "I now pronounce you..." Will lifted Elizabeth, and their lithe figures compressed as their swords stabbed a man on either side, their chests panting in the same motions. "You may kiss..." Barbossa winded to the left and right to thwart blows to his legs as Will swathed Elizabeth with one arm and dipped the woman seductively, their lips almost scraping softly against one another, and their heated breath mingling so deliciously. A soldier hollered, and Will was forced to thrust Elizabeth back to her feet to avoid a fatal blow. "You may kiss!" Barbossa bellowed, leaping down from the platform and losing hope for this ceremony. They were surrounded. Men of all shapes, sizes, and textures were attacking them one after the other. Not a moment. Not a second. And then, their swords were hoisted into the air, believing the opposite to be an enemy, and they just stared at one another for a split second as their weapons rang and clashed. Barbossa gashed one man, swiveled to lacerate another, and then he finally, out of energy and rolling his eyes hollered, "JUST KISS!"

Elizabeth grabbed his arm, Will gripped her slim waist, and their eyes locked as their drenched figures compressed, and their mouths gaped open, their lips grazing and then ravaging magnificently. Their tongues wandered gloriously as they sealed the eccentric marriage, their eyes fluttering closed and forgetting that they were ever apart. The wind and pattering rain whipped against their figures, but their feet were planted, and their hearts pounded in rhythm with one another. Elizabeth popped her foot and then replaced it to the deck as she heard the bleating of the horrific storm. Her saturated hand absentmindedly massaged the back of Will's neck, and her knuckles paled as she clasped her sabre even tighter. This was just...It was everything she could have ever wanted. His moist head tilted farther into the blessed embrace, her lips slaking his every desire and quenching his thirst for resolution. Perilous debris rotated around their clinching grip, and the gigantic maelstrom's wave cascaded over the deck of the _Black Pearl_, re-soaking their already wet bodies. They were suddenly parting, sliding back into reality from the grunts of sailors and the calls in vain. Still gripping one another's arms, Elizabeth and Will gazed at one another, suddenly shattered after that lovely kiss.

"I love you, Will," Elizabeth finally croaked, feeling the moment passing around them and breezing over their heads. The battle was not over, but a sense of dreadful foreboding was gyrating in the air as their hands slithered off of one another.

"I love you," he returned in a whisper, pulsing her hand twice before being otherwise distracted. Their embrace was broken, their missions separated, and Elizabeth and Will forced themselves to think of only the mêlée, afraid of what lay ahead and yet, hoping that the fear would turn to joy once their burdens lay entirely bare.


	32. Chapter 32: With or Without You

(Since it was more or less a tie between the reviewers (thanks for the input) I decided to go ahead and do the final battle scene, including Will's gulp death. I wanted to post this the same day as the honeymoon, but I unfortunately do not have the time to do both today. Tomorrow looks promising though :D. I worked rather hard on this one to try to get that hazy emotion in the end. I hope I accomplished it to the best of my ability. If you really want to know what I believed were Elizabeth and Jack's thoughts during the whole parachute-farewell scene, check out, yes I'm advertising (haha) my fanfic No Doubts. It covers that in a one shot, switching from Jack and Elizabeth's P.O.Vs

I left it... Strangely concluding, but I promise, IT'S NOT OVER. Haha, but you know that. Probably two more chapters and the next lovely one will be nice, romantic, long, and a little erotic. Next one, yes, changing to rating of M. Ah, of course, then there will be a breifish ten years chapter and that will be the end. Enjoy this one... As much as you can a gulp again death scene.)

William had lost view of her long ago, preoccupied with his own fervid duels and now dwelling on his father's predicament. Only a moment before, when he had happened to glance to the _Flying Dutchman_, he had seen Bootstrap mercilessly fighting his fellow pirates, and it burned Will's heart to know that his father had been entirely suctioned into Davy Jones' crew. His station was clear; he hoped to board the battling ship, but then he cursed. The vessels were careening at the wrong angles, and if he grasped a rope now, it would spell disaster.

An East India Trading Company's soldier was suddenly charging him with a cutlass in each hand, his yell mighty but his ability shallow. Will merely stepped aside with a grunt, gripped the nap of the navy-coated soldier's neck, thrust him backward, and twisted his sword into the man's torso. As blood gushed into the loyal man's mouth and dribbled onto his wardrobe, Will released his grip and pulled himself against the Pearl's railing, his eyebrows furrowing as he spotted a battle between two men among the masts.

Jack dangled precariously above the _Flying Dutchman's_ swarming deck, his legs thrashing wildly and his hands writhing as he sought to maintain his grip on... What was that? Will squeezed the side as he squinted and then shook his head. It was the chest. And if Jack lost his grip... It would be all over. Davy would take complete control, and they would descend into the depths of the sea. He had to get on that ship. Leaning forward, William scrambled onto the railing with a rope in hand, kicked his black boots and propelled himself across the whirlpool, feeling the stinging rain slather his face.

The man quickly found his footing, glanced to the menacing gray and blue sky for Jack's suspended figure, and then scanned the slippery deck. His eyebrows arched eagerly; the chest, lying sideways on the floor, was his for the taking. He swept up the engraved container with both hands and then Will started running across the narrow algae-encrusted bridge. All he had to do was find a sturdy place to command Jones and then... And then... He hadn't decided. He could barely ponder the thought of stabbing the heart with so much to lose and so much to gain. He couldn't. At this point, he just had to keep moving.

The floor was abruptly shuddering as cannons fired on either side, and Will slammed into the slimy corner, a cannon's poisonous and gritty debris catapulting into his face. As his vision cleared, he drew back, his countenance draining of the thrill of possessing the chest.

"Turner!" Maccus screeched, chucking his rusty ax toward the young man.

Will managed to thwart the blow, the blade bouncing off the small chest. He stooped down as Maccus swung the blunt weapon again, and as he rose with his hand on the metal hilt of his sword, the flaming undead monkey soared past his nose and latched onto the crew member's confused expression. Maccus stumbled backward, and the man tumbled over the flimsy railing just as the monkey finally loosened his grip.

"Thank you, Jack," Will remarked with a sleight smile, for once cherishing that deviant monkey's presence. He stormed forward, noting a gaping door. Perhaps the door led to empty quarters. Suddenly, his decrepit, scaly father punched William twice, flipping the man over and sending the chest clattering a few feet away. Will shook his head. His father? His father was attacking him! Bootstrap lumbered forward with is glinting weapon drawn, and Will rapidly removed his own as he clambered to his feet. He ducked and veered away, but the large coral body knocked him backward with remarkable speed.

"It's me!" William bellowed, their swords clanging before being yanked into Bootstrap's insane expression. "It's Will, your son!" He could not allow his father to lose his last link, and Will did not desire to lose his life. He tried to maintain eye contact, wanting his father, now more than ever, to make the connection.

Bootstrap paused, raising his free hand in what Will thought to be a sort of embrace, but then that feral, untamed look appeared, his eyes widened, and Bootstrap Bill's knuckles cracked loudly. His slimy, ash-white hand wrapped around Will's clammy neck, grasping his chocolate brown ponytail. Bill shoved his boy to the ground. A meager yelp emerged, the ridged floor re-opening the nearly healed lashes across his back, and the horrid image of murdering his own father bloating forward. Will slid and scrambled to his feet. It was all so unbelievable. His dream of marriage, a family, a father couldn't just crumble. He thrust his energy into the estranged father and son duel.

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Elizabeth slashed a soldier in half and trotted up the steps, her knees giving out with the quake of the _Black Pearl_ before reaching Cotton, the latest captain, and fresh mayhem. She thought her husband was amongst them... She had to let him know... Elizabeth had to tell him that she loved him but that he needed to do what he could for Bootstrap. As she blocked an attack on the mute man at the helm, she squeaked, "Barbossa!"

"If ye be wanting another wedding, I'm not really in a find mood at the moment, Mrs. Turner!" he returned almost light-heartedly as he cackled at a tortured soul's death.

"No," she screamed, shoving a member of Jones' crew overboard. She aided in hacking into Barbossa's opponent as she asked breathlessly, "Where is Will?"

"The _Dutchman_," Barbossa replied as he gestured to Cotton and smacked a soldier to the floor.

"Will," she hoarsely whispered. Elizabeth could not stay here and not say farewell, even if it was brief and unfeeling. He was going to stab the heart. If Jack didn't... He would. The woman's eyes skimmed over the _Black Pearl's_ clouded deck until she spied Mr. Gibbs catching spare ropes and waging his own war. Mrs. Turner galloped to his side and croaked over the moaning squall, "Gibbs! Get me over there!"

"Take a rope," the elderly man commanded as he swiped raindrops from his eyes.

With the rough braided rope in one hand, Elizabeth climbed onto the railing, her feet unsteady as she glanced over her shoulder in anticipation. This was it. Her moment to fly.

"Go!" Gibbs shouted.

Elizabeth leaned her weight into the cable, her heavy embroidered clothing dragging her down and her stomach launching into her throat. She released a slight squeal of fright as she swung above the whirling current, and then her elfish-toed booties were scraping against the deck of the _Flying Dutchman._ The pirate king gasped in and out air as she lifted her eyes to her first adversary. There he was. Towering and glaring and marking her first encounter with Davy Jones. She irately stared at him. Of course, only she would locate him a second after arriving. She had scarcely seen the terrifying squid-face but not a bone ached from fear. Elizabeth hoped to slash off his writhing tentacles within this battle.

"Harridan!" he roared.

First, he whips her husband and tortures his father, and now he dared to call her such a revolting and derogatory name.

Bloody Bastard.

"You will see no mercy from me!"

"That's why I brought this!" Elizabeth screamed, her drenched locks draped over her brown blazing eyes and her mouth gaping open in exhaustion. As she removed her sabre from its sheath, she set a goal. To chop off anything on that wretched man that her sword could touch.

They circled like mad dogs, his nonexistent lips curling in malice and Elizabeth growling sinisterly. The isolated pair switched sides, their swords slashing and clinking, matching in their movements. Elizabeth heaved out her breaths, the world beginning to swirl in a blur. He wasn't even better, but he was stronger. He could maintain longer than she. He could endure, and she was losing ground. As Mrs. Turner moaned with the switch of her blade, Davy's sword barely missed her stomach, and Elizabeth fell backward, scooting along the floor as she continued fighting. Damn. Somehow, he was keeping his strength. And his feet were like cement blocks, planted to the deck. As Elizabeth's free hand clenched and found the side, she leapt to her feet and curved her arm, lacerating Jones' shoulder. He barely flinched, and her limbs started to ache as she hurled herself forward, flinging out any energy as her muscles tensed with dread.

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Will slung his sword, clashing with Bootstrap and pinning his barnacled arm to the railing, managing to knock his razor-sharp blade from his hand. He hoisted his father's dagger to Bootstrap's throat. The man's eyes were wild, still desiring to kill his own son. But Will couldn't do it. He couldn't do that. Perhaps though... If Bootstrap was just injured. It was his only option, wasn't it? Then, her voice. No, he thought, it was her pained groan. He swiveled his head to see his wife struggling in the battle against Davy Jones. Why had she taken him on? His fingers twitched against the dagger.

"I'm not going to kill you," Will growled. "I made you a promise." He jabbed the grimy dagger into the coral on Bootstrap's arm, pinning the man for the moment. Will spun on his heels, poising his sword as Elizabeth weakly released a wail.

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With his tentacled hand, Davy clobbered Elizabeth, knocking her personalized sabre a few feet away and thrusting the woman to the ground. Her blonde head banged against the vacant stairs, and she attempted to lift her head with one arm bent by her head and the other crumpled at her side. The blackness was gripping her, pulling her down, telling her it would be... No, it wouldn't be. But it was so tempting...

Davy Jones leaned over the disarrayed Elizabeth, his eyes flaring. She had come close. Closer than Jack Sparrow that is. The tortured man poised the inherited sword, the tassel adhering to his flesh, but before he could carry through with the attack, he groaned, and his back arched as William Turner's sword sliced through his upper body. It was hardly a sound of pain. More of... Frustration.

"Mister," he rumbled. "Did you forget? I'm a heartless wretch." His grotesque hand twisted the sword against his chest.

Will tugged on the wedged sword, his eyes widening, now alarmed by this unfortunate fact. No weapon. Davy abruptly swung around, and Will managed to duck, his mind racing. What now? The man rose and like an uncoordinated dance, the pair spun hastily as Will sought to locate a weapon. As he impudently glanced to Elizabeth's still body and stray sword, Davy slung his deformed claw foot against Will's wavering moist figure, hurling him across the deck.

Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open, and as she wiped her moist hair from her face, her surrounding quickly came into focus. Her eyes caught Will, who was several feet away and shaking his head anxiously. Something was wrong. And then she heard the labored breathing of Davy Jones. She looked back to Will, and he stared at her as fear flooded into his eyes. Get out, his brown eyes commanded. Move.

"Ahhh," Davy released, laughing at their anguish. "Love. A dreadful bond. And yet... So easily severed." He stalked toward William and hoisted his weapon to the man's gullet.

This could be the end. This could be the horrid end to everything. Will tilted his chin, avoiding the sharp blade and keeping his eyes on that wretched man.

"Tell me, William Turner, do you fear death?"

Yes, he could admit. Will didn't so much as a fear death as he did the consequences of his death. The death of Elizabeth and Will's marriage, the death of his father's mind, and the death of everything right in his world.

"Do you?" a harsh, grinding voice hollered.

Elizabeth's head swiveled to Captain Jack whose hand gripped his broken sword and whose expression was so satisfied as the pulsing heart of Davy Jones' leaked blood and quivered. Yes, her lips turned in a little smile. Yes, yes. Control him. Will smiled slightly as well as the couple turned to one another for a moment, before returning their gaze to Jack.

"You're a cruel man, Jack Sparrow," Davy Jones harshly uttered, taking a few steps toward the kneeling man.

Jack replied smugly. He had leverage and he could taunt and command and do whatever he pleased with the power. "Cruel is a matter of perspective," he countered placidly, droplets of rain pattering against his jacket.

No, Elizabeth thought, he is waiting too long. Do it now. Do it now.

"Is it?" Davy asked mockingly, and then, with a potent roar, the man spun around and thrust his sword into Will's chest.

William's mouth gaped open as he heard his beloved gasp and whimper, his teeth gleaming in the dim light as Davy twisted the sword through his beating heart. He felt the blood gush out of his vessels and seep into his lungs, draining him of speech, of strength, of everything he held dear. He groaned as Elizabeth lurched forward, her eyes bulging as she realized that Will was dying before her eyes. On her hands and knees, she crawled forward as Davy drew back laughing ruthlessly, and tears began to dribble, mixing with the rain. She cautiously edged along the side, her hands running over the side of the green vessel and her petite body quivering as the erect sword glinted in her eyes. Her husband was paling, and as her knees gave out, her hands wrapped gently around the lodged sword.

"Oh," she sighed helplessly, the tears not yet flowing profusely. "Will," she whispered as his eyes slowly opened and closed, releasing a small whine. Then, the emotions of the day, of the months, of the year churned up her stomach and into her face. Everything built, everything that was recovered... Was now falling into rubble. And his eyes were closing. No, no. "Look at me!" she screamed, her hands slid up to his cheeks, arousing the muscles. "Stay with me," she pleaded, leaning over his insipid figure. He couldn't die. He couldn't leave her... No! She calmed her voice. "You're all right!" There was a commotion around her, but she didn't care. Her hands continued to massage his moist, soft face. She loved him. She loved him. They had to have a family, live by the sea, and avoid Jack. Together. Together!

"Will, Will!" Her fingers worked, shifting his head in her hands. He couldn't leave her! No, it was too soon. They deserved more time. They deserved so much more than this. "Look at me," she commanded, but his eyelids were now resting longer. "Look at me!" she screamed, rubbing his face harder, wanting him to wake and rise. She heard the shuffle of a body, and Jack was staring at her, his eyes full of apologies and sorrow.

"Elizabeth," he murmured, displaying the heart and the sword. It was the only way. There was no option as before. Death or bondage was the choice.

She nodded as her lips pouted and tears dribbled down her cheeks and onto Will's vest. Elizabeth hadn't wanted it to come to this. To this indecisive action. She knew what a risk it was. His eyes opened a last time, "Will, I love you," she whispered into his ear, her slender hands still holding his face. She lifted her eyes to Jack. "Yes," she cried, her voice quavering as she leaned against her beloved. "Yes."

Jack settled the pulsing heart on the ground, dropping his eyes from Elizabeth's tear-streaked face. This would heal their love and hurt it as well. Such torture was horrid. He rapidly lifted Will's calloused hand and wrapped it about the hilt of the sword, gripping the man's knuckles awkwardly as the weapon rose and then fell with a deafening blow. The silence was now so numbing. The sirens of Calypso still whirled above, and Davy Jones was spinning around as they stared at the twitching captain. He hissed the goddess' name and then, passing by Bootstrap, tumbled backward over the railing and into the sea.

"I...I..." Will tried to tell her again how he felt. The things he wanted to say to her when this battle was over, but his lungs were filling and the taste of sticky blood sloshed against his tongue.

Elizabeth waited, staring into Will's face as his eyes closed a final time. His entire body relaxed beneath her; every ache and pain subsiding with Jones' death. "No," she whispered as her head shook uncontrollably. He was supposed to rise. He was supposed to heal immediately... Why wasn't it working? Why wasn't he rising and waking and holding her? Elizabeth continued to massage his face. "No!" she screamed as his jaw relaxed and his resistance dropped off. "NO, NO!" she wailed to him as her husband, her beloved, her lover, her one and only perished. "No!" she shrieked hysterically, her hands shivering. "Don't leave me!"

Hands. A man's hands were wrapping around her waist and tugging on her back. Her own arms were sliding across Will's limp chest. "I won't leave you!" she screeched and twisted and writhed as Jack's arms lugged her backward. He was murmuring something in Elizabeth's ear. Something comforting. Something that she never thought he would say. But she couldn't absorb it. She couldn't really hear it as he hauled her to the side, and with one hand around Elizabeth and the other unfastening ropes, he constructed their escape. His hand slid to his pistol, the very same pistol that had saved him and later saved Elizabeth from Barbossa. Now, it would rescue them. He tugged the still struggling Elizabeth into his arms,and she he stared at his face and he stared right back. She felt the confidence in him. He wouldn't say it, but he believed it would be ok. Her hands glided past his baldric and up to his waist and she swathed herself in his grip.

"Hold on!" he hollered, and the zinging bullet propelled the tattered parachute into the air, flapping open in the clearing sky. Tears trickled down her cheeks and onto Jack's navy coat. She was alone. She had contributed to every death. Her father, James, Jack, her husband... What a terror her heart was. Memories of her marriage lingered in her mind, and as her eyes breezed past the frightened monkey, she gazed at the twirling _Flying Dutchman_ that was being suctioned into oblivion. With a quavering sob, Elizabeth dove into the pirate's salty chest and squeezed him tightly. He was salvaging her life. He was here... But Will was not and never would be again.

She felt his eyes drift to her face and then back into the green-blue material, clearly wondering why she had embraced him so tautly. He was the last person that really mattered. And he was a friend who had saved her life and had done his best to save Will's. Good man. Her eyes squeezed shut, memories of her time and adventures with Will swirling with the beat of her heart. She didn't know how she would go on, and she wanted to turn back time. She had wished that on her wedding day, hadn't she? When she was crouching in a fine dress with similar tears streaming down her face. She had asked herself why it was happening. Why hadn't he shown up, but now it all seemed so...So hazy and confusing. But then again, did she not say to herself that she could not turn back? As her locks swayed in the wind, she glanced into Jack's face and then leaned into him again. She couldn't wish that anymore. Time passed. Things changed.

It was a woeful adieu from Will that didn't exist. But she could feel what he had wanted to say those final moments. He would not want her to drown in her sorrow... But to feel the warmth of the sun, know that he will never stop loving her... That he would desire as much as he desired life.


	33. Chapter 33: Come Back

(OT: This is the first love-scene I have ever written. I tried to do what I was most comfortable with and let the characters take me. I wanted to make a point of letting you know that Elizabeth and Will don't know if he will return for the rest of his life or whether it is just one day ashore. I also decided to show both sides of doubt, hence the switching of scenes (you'll see!). I hope you enjoy it. I hope it makes you sad and happy and I hope I made is passionate, lovely, and bittersweet. Up next will be the final chapter...)

As Mrs. Elizabeth Turner trotted to the shoreline, she removed her glinting saber and thrust it into the sand, smiling at the treasured present. She turned her head as she watched men scurry on the Flying Dutchman in the distance, and as she writhed her hands nervously, the woman stepped into the lapping waves, a small smile creeping. She squinted, watching for Will's black longboat, but for several minutes, she did not spy her husband plowing through the ocean. Elizabeth swallowed the lump in her throat, suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense that something was wrong. That perhaps… Will couldn't step on land. She wrenched her dainty feet out of the suctioning sand to step forward and released a soft sigh.

"Elizabeth," a hoarse voice called.

She turned a full 180 to see Will Turner with the chest tucked beneath his arm. "Will!" she cried, ignoring her heavy feet as she hastily galloped toward him. Realizing her intent, the man chucked the chest safely to the ground, away from the crashing waves and their impending embrace. Elizabeth plunged into his strong arms, wrapping her arms around his neck, and even though he expected her frail body, he hadn't expected the power. His knees wobbled and suddenly he was tumbling backward into the soggy sand.

"I thought I lost you," she said as she nuzzled against his sweet, salty scent.

"No," he whispered as his arms stroked her thick armor and propped himself up on one elbow, raising his brown head out of the shallow water. It was bliss to feel her so warm and secure and know that she was his wife, his Elizabeth.

"But how did you…?"

"I'm not sure, but it stills time as I transport."

It sounded far too formal. Far too civilized for such a reunion, and so the couple shrugged the particulars off, and they, without a word, rising to a sitting position, gritty sand and mushy muck clinging to their clothes. His arm looped about her slim waist and then slid beneath her thick, muscular legs. She smiled slightly as Will hoisted her into the air, and then they gazed at one another as Will trudged past the chest and paused at the single sabre. With a small grunt, Elizabeth removed William's own sword and nodded to her husband. He graciously stooped down, and Elizabeth flung the sword into the sand, crossing their weapons in a majestic fashion. He halted at the largest and flattest rock and gently situated his wife in a temporary seat. They stared at one another, a simple calm settling over them as his legs pressed against her spread knees. He leaned forward, as did Elizabeth, and their lips tenderly grazed against one another. Her lips tasted of salt and felt like a loaded gun, pulsing for more. Will yearned to give her everything she wanted, even though her lips were now pulling back. Their embrace separated, and then he wrapped his arms around her gaunt covered shoulders, and they kissed with greater confidence. Elizabeth twisted her hands in the loose material of his maroon blouse, and at the same time, plucked ineffectually at his orange-striped sash. Her layers of clothing suddenly became an vile burden to William, and his fingers slithered around her waist and unlatched the festooned black belt, leaving it to roll off the jagged sides of the rock as the Chinese silks took a different, larger form. Will knelt down, his hands crawling down her hidden legs and tugging off her black booties and then returning to her lips.

Elizabeth sighed as their annoyance became a restless, sensuous wrestling, his calloused, adoring hands gradually unfastening each metal latch, and her own tossing his sash and blouse to the side. She stretched out her arms, a chill vibrating through her figure and sending tingles to her toes as he sent the Chinese jacket to the ground. Oh, how long she had waited for this blessed moment. As her feet touched the ground with an exultant sigh, Elizabeth wriggled out of her black trousers and eyed Will's muscular upper torso. The sea and labor had done him good. Her eyes alight as the muscles in his arms flexed, Will picked up her gaze as he kicked off his other leather boot. He smiled, and she returned the gesture, and then they were in one another's arms, she in her lightly armored tunic, and he in only his trousers. He whispered her name seductively as they gradually glided between the rocks, where Elizabeth had previously laid out two blankets, and then they crumpled into the ground in one smooth movement. She laced her fingers through his silken tendrils, and he held her delicate jaw-line before his lips glided down, granting pleasurable wet kisses down her neckline. Her hands went to his waistband. She wanted him; she wanted him closer.

Will abruptly stopped and lifted his eyes to his wife, her legs slung across his lap and her eyes growing quizzical. "I don't want to hurt you," he said quietly, his eyes glancing away from her face. He had heard of what women suffered, while men were granted immediate satisfaction, and he never wished for his Elizabeth to experience that much pain.

"But you must," she replied without hesitation. "For the sake of pleasure." A mischievous grin broke, and she leaned into him, ravaging his lips with such enthusiasm that her suffering was put aside. Will gently pressed his beloved to the ground, and he kissed her fluttering eyes and parted her pouted lisp with his moist tongue. Their kissing soon became a fond gnawing as she bit him hard on his lower lip. Will pulled away and kissed her throat, making Elizabeth tilt back her blonde locks, releasing a soft moan as she pushed his face down against her breasts. There was a small amount of fumbling before he found her nipple, tiny and hard, and wrapped his mouth around it. He repeated it with the other, and her spine went ridged as sensations she had never experienced swelled within her body. He rose to his full height again, but she was now sliding beneath him, her hands drumming down his chest until she took his nipple into her mouth. It was unbearable. He created a nibbling path up her smooth neck, and then he kissed her beneath their earlobe. Their lips met again, her arms clasped behind his head, and their breathing agitated, desiring, yearning.

"Lizzie," he whispered in her ear. "My Lizzie."

She had long ago forsaken that nickname, but now it was a seductive hissing on the "z" that she had never heard before, and she had never expected Will to use anything other than her name. It was fantastic. Her arms flopped above her head in pure bliss, and Will's left hand was now sliding up her thigh and raising the hem of the tunic over her head. Now more than ever, all the blundering and worries that neither would know what they were doing disappeared, and their eyes locked for a moment. Elizabeth then returned the favor, tugging on his waistband a final time before Will finally released his throbbing self. For a moment, they basked in the glory of their nude figures, and his hands cupped her petite left breast and then the other before kissing them both. Her hands glided down the contours, and she whispered his name in bidding. The pair held their breath as the membrane parted, and when it did, Elizabeth turned away quickly, holding back her scream of pain as their bloods mingled. It did hurt, but not as severely as she had thought. No, now a new sensation was coming… And it was lovely. Her hips rotated beneath Will's, surprisingly not finding pain anymore but finding pleasure instead. He thrust into her, and she moaned and screamed a few times in pain and then at the utmost delight when the delicious sensation spread through her body. She screamed his name, and he hissed hers again. Her teeth raked against his sinewy shoulder as he thrust into her again, and a small sough escaped the back of her throat as she arched her back, moving in rhythm with him. The pleasure mounted until they both reached their climax, and Will rolled away, his damp hair curled into sweaty ringlets and his chest heaving up and down as Elizabeth glanced to him.

He crawled back toward her, looping his arm beneath her shoulders and pulling her close. "Forgive me, Elizabeth," he said, brushing back her damp locks. He wanted her more than once, but by the puzzled expression on her face, he thought she was unsatisfied and would more than likely leave him with that one blessed moment.

"Why?" she asked blankly, rolling her head on Will's chest.

"Did I not… hurt you?" He propped his head on one elbow, his eyebrows furrowing.

She shook her head and smiled as she whispered a solid, "No, not at all." Her slender fingers climbed up his chest, and she stroked his fuzzy whiskers as she said, "I suppose immortality has its benefits." They lay there for a moment, his calloused hand rubbing her thin arm, and her nude form pressing as close to Will as possible. So that was the act. And it was marvelous. As she rose up, the flaring sun cast a beautiful glare behind her blonde, lovely locks, and she then asked, "Can we do it again?"

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The torturous son painted flames across the gentle swells of the waves as Will and Elizabeth floated in shallow water, her hands swathing his tan shoulders and his arms wrapped about her waist. They drifted in the cove, the quiet of the area so stilling as they explored each other's bodies once again, finding the act of love somewhat tricky, but entirely pleasurable in the ocean.

"It is so quiet here… Just the two of us," Elizabeth said as she tilted back her head, dipping her loose hair into the water. Quiet but perfect was what she meant. Yes, this must be heaven. If it wasn't, well, God had quite an experience to amount to. Elizabeth straightened his slightly crooked green bandana, smiling at the new addition to his wardrobe. He had refused to remove it during their… Persistent and constant love-making, and she didn't intend on asking again.

"Yes, it is our little haven," he replied in a murmur, gripping her tautly and shifting her closer again him, thrilled by the feel of her small bare breasts against his chest. He tenderly brushed aside her drenched locks and smiled gently. She was beautiful. She was his goddess. Venus, Aphrodite, Calypso… She surpassed them all by several lengths.

"I cannot stay here." Her tone was solemn.

"What?" Panicked, Will completely dropped the embrace, accidentally dunking his wife. She wouldn't wait? But she had said… Again and again. Not promised, but she had told him. He would have forgiven Elizabeth for not wanting to wait ten years, but…

The woman burst through the water, her arms thrashing as she smacked Will playfully against his chest. She tread back into his arms and patted his pec as she leaned her exposed figure against him again. "No, no," she said gently, "I mean, here. In this bay. I will have to move somewhere that is safer." She heard him release a gentle sigh in relief, and she chuckled at his absurd assumption. She loved him. Body and soul. Bewitched from their first day and would be till their last. She pondered the ideas for a moment. Port Royal was out of the question. Governor's daughter, captain of the Flying Dutchman. What gossip would abound! "Shipwreck Cove, perhaps?" she suddenly surmised, arching both her eyebrows. "I am Pirate King, after all."

"And you can rule properly while I'm gone," Will added lightly, recalling those precious moments between the bars of Port Royal's cells. He squeezed his hands into the small of her back and then spun in a slow, swirling circle, the manmade waves merging into Calypso's sea.

"Eagerly, you mean." She smiled and wiped the water from her eyes. "We're safe here, right now, aren't we?" Elizabeth asked almost mockingly, surveying the cove and its splendor. The rocks seemed to be arranged and sized just for them to sit or make love on, the stretches of glorious beach were perfect for galloping and playing, and these waters were perfect for more love and more playing. Yes, a definite haven.

"Yes, my Lizzie," he whispered, sending vibrations through her again. That name. Oh that sweet, seductive endearment turned her onto love, and Will had quickly figured that out. Realizing she wasn't quite in the mood again, he added, "You are always safe in my arms." His rough hands began to massage her smooth bare back, rubbing up and down her prominent spine and even curling around her ribs occasionally. He wanted to stay this way; he desired to make every second last a minute, every minute last an hour, and every hour last a day. But he would have to return at sunset and fulfill his duties, and Elizabeth had to make her own way without him. "But when I leave…" he trailed, his eyes descending to the sea and avoiding the glimmering silhouette of her cool unclothed body. "The world keeps turning, Elizabeth."

Even after all she said, and he still doubted that she desired this. That she would wait for him. "Then it is a good thing that you are my world," she countered with an airy breath.

"Elizabeth, you don't have to—"

"No, Will," she said as she squeezed his neck. "Don't say that." Elizabeth leaned forward and kissed his moist cheek, resting her head against his shoulder before returning her gaze to his somber countenance. "Will, I would wait one hundred years if I had to… If it broke your bond to the Flying Dutchman. You know that."

"But we don't know for certain that I will be able to return to a normal life and give up the captaincy," the man said hesitantly, his eyes glazing over with almost tears.

Elizabeth gripped his face, her fingers pulsing against his cheekbones and then his defined jaw-line. She could not doubt it and neither could he. "It will. I know it will."

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"Ten years..." Elizabeth said only hours later in a drawling tone as they nestled in the blankets. What if she was wrong? What she was entirely wrong? He might not come back. He may be bound for that ship, destined to rule the seas forever, with brief spouts on land every ten years. She might be wrong.

"I will return, Elizabeth. No matter what," he assured, clasping both her hands and kissing the fingertips. He believed it because she did. She couldn't doubt it. If she wouldn't allow him to be uncertain, he wouldn't allow her.

"Promise me that we will return to the way we were, before everything. Promise me that everything will be ok in ten years." It was a raspy whisper, that was buried in a few tears as she pressed her wet face against him.

"I promise."

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Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open, and she patted the thick cotton blanket, abruptly realizing that her husband was no longer lying alongside her. "Will?" she asked softly and then heard the rustling of his movements. She weaved her fingers through her hair as she rose and strolled forward, watching Will round up his scattered articles of clothing. The woman smiled as she spotted one of his black leather boots, and she quickly crouched to the ground, behind a rock, and dragged it toward her. She eased it on over her foot but couldn't help a fit of giggles. She hoped Will hadn't heard her. Now, if only she could find the left boot…

With one arm resting on his knee, and his other leg stretched out to almost its full extent, he said light-heartedly, "I'm gonna need the other one." Elizabeth grinned and propped her foot up on a flat rock, displaying the ribbed leather boot in all its glory. Will glanced at the formed shoe, and his eyes trailed up to his wife's delighted expression, who gently brushed her loose locks behind her ears. Silly. She had tried this before and failed, but… Then again… That was quite a lovely romp that time. He edged toward the gorgeous woman and gripped the back of her smooth, shapely calf and slid off the boot, tossing it aside. His filthy fingers crawled toward her thigh as his lips rubbed over her sleek knee.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, hoping that he would continue that splendid trek up her leg, just as he had hours before, and pursue every curve of her body until their lust was slaked once again. She felt his whiskers scratch even farther up, and she closed her eyes and tilted back her head, smiling at the prospect. Then, he stopped. He just… Stopped, and she felt his scruffy face rest again her knee.

"It's nearly sunset."

It was a remark she could have done without. Her eyes flickered open, and she stared at the Dutchman that was now beckoning her husband by obligation. Her eyes fell, as did any hope of final, blissful goodbyes. It was a natural thought, but… After hours and lovely moments, that she forced herself to think that she could thwart the yearning. But no, she still didn't want him to leave. They deserved more time. They didn't deserve such a long lapse of ten years. Will had quickly yanked on his boot, and he now had risen and strode toward the rock, removed his soft, dried jacket, and drummed his fingers against the chest.

"It's always belonged to you," he said over his shoulder, the light breeze flapping open his blouse and wafting against his sealed wound. He could not look her in the eye in case she wavered. Because if she was unsteady, he was unsteady. But then, he thought, he had to gaze at her. He had to savor every movement, memorize every twitch and glimmer. He spun around, holding the small chest, and asked, hoping he knew the answer, "Will you keep it safe?"

"Yes," she replied, nodding her head a little. She walked forward and overlapped his grasp on the container, feeling the pulsing beat between them. She would keep this heart, this beating thing, safe for ten years, and she would also remain faithful to that heart. "Yes," she repeated, assuring her own strength in the devoted task. She closed her eyes as she felt him come near, and his forehead pressed lightly against hers, the chest dropped down to their waists. If only a moment more… Then, she felt him pull away, heard his footsteps in the sand, and the shuffling of his coat. She shook her head. No, she couldn't let him go. Not yet… Not without a final adieu. "Will!" she cried, setting the chest back on the rock and galloping toward him. He spun around to meet her eyes, and she bounded into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him fiercely. Elizabeth rocked on her toes as they swayed with the rhythm of their kiss, the tips of their tongues barely touching and then plundering in the most fantastic of ways.

Their lips finally parted, and their eyes locked onto one another, telling each other all those sentiments over and over again. He slipped out of her grasp, and her hands slid from his shoulder as he murmured, "Keep a weather eye on the horizon." He strode a few feet into the crashing waves and then, within seconds, his form was gone.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving deep marks as a wave lapped over her little feet. Ten years at sea. A lifetime ashore. As she closed her eyes, every waking moment of their time together flashed through her mind, and then when her eyes fluttered open, her gaze still on the darkening rim of the ocean, she whispered, "Come back to me."


	34. Chap 34:Guiding Me to Where I Find Peace

(OT: It wasn't the amount of time that was the problem. It was the emotion that I didn't want to this fanfic to end just yet... That I really wanted to do this chapter justice without leaving you hanging or wanting more before or after. I did my best because I think, no matter where you end it, whether you carry it after the end credits scene or end it like in the movie, the audience will still be thinking, "What happened after that?" So, I ran with my instincts for this scene. I think it might be simpler, language-wise, than my other chapters... But maybe that is just me. It is mostly Elizabeth, but I couldn't just leave Will out of the FINAL chapter. I mean, really, I am definately not that silly. The last lines are the bursts of emotion. The heat and the hearts are returned, literally and figuratively, and they were reunited. Hopefully that comes across without actually saying it. heh

Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the reviews and encouragement. You've no idea how much that did help me want to keep writing! Enjoy... And I suppose farewell for now. I'm starting with a poem first... That I found recently that is much sadder than the actual W/E story but definately relates in my opinion...)

_Now we have met, we have look, we are safe;_

_Return in peace to the ocean, my love;_

_I too am part of that ocean, my love;we are not so much separated;_

_Behold the great rondure;the cohesion of all, how perfect!_

_But as for me, for you, the irresistible sea is to separate us,_

_As for an hour, carrying us diverse;yet cannot carry us diverse for ever;_

_Be not impatient;a little space;Know you, I salute the air, the ocean and the __land,_

_Every day, at sundown, for your dear sake, my love._

_--Walt Whitman_

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Elizabeth propped both bony elbows on her knees, her lungs filling with light and boundless air, like when she slumbered alone in her queen-sized bed. The lady glanced to the open leather and bronze-lined trunk that overflowed with her winter clothing, staring at the thin jackets and trousers. How long had it been since she had tidied her chamber or smoothed the cotton sheets on her bed? She couldn't recollect a time after William's birth when she cared how her furniture was angled or when her pillows were arranged.

She rose from the forest green settee, the walls a paler, similar shade and her short heels clicking against the hardwood floors as she passed through the entryway. She paused at the polished looking-glass and fiddled with her loosely pinned locks, bleached from the abundant exposure to the sun, and fingered the few tresses curling beneath her jaw-line. The woman tugged at the rim of her sleeveless vest, satisfied with her ensemble but irritated by the design of her hair. She had snapped several pins in to secure the bun, no matter its mussed appearance, and her locks were hardly lustrous due to her calming swim that morning so, at first, she did not wish for Will to see her in the least bit unkempt. Ignoring the tolling of the grandfather clock in the drawing room, Elizabeth released her locks from the curly bun, clasped a few silken strands, and then fastened her hair partially, leaving her slightly greasy locks to bounce at her shoulders. It was better. No where near as lovely as it was usually, but it was certainly improved from the bun, flattering her delicate features. She continued into the corridor, nodding to the plump maid who hurriedly greeted her.

"Evenin', Mrs. Turner," she said.

With her gaze glancing past the woman, Elizabeth searched the open drawing room and the adjoining parlor for her son. No use. "Have you seen William?"

"I believe the lad's upstairs, Ma'am. He's been chatterin' all day."

"Ah, thank you," Elizabeth said, gliding around the maid and grasping the oak railing of the staircase. She had long ago forsaken propriety, including her father's rule against screaming in the house, and the blazing sun was already bidding the pair's presence. She leaned into the command as she shouted, "William!" She heard the clomping of bare feet and the rattle of his closet, and Elizabeth lifted one foot, placing it on the nearest step. "William!" she cried again.

"Just a minute," he said, although it emerged as a murmur to the mother.

Elizabeth turned and strode toward the locked door, her teeth grinding against one another. It was almost time, and she could still hear her son shuffling in his bedchamber, yanking on his boots. William abruptly charged out of his room, banged the door shut, and galloped toward the stairs.

"Don't run, now."

He then moved a little slower, his footsteps heavy in the awkward boots as he planted the tricorne hat on his brown head.

"Well, come along, then." The woman's voice was stern. Not in the least bit soft or kind to her only child, and William's lip curled in partial confusion and anticipation. Did she want him to make haste or take his time? His little legs lifted a little faster, and Elizabeth's hand wrapped around the bronze doorknob.

Elizabeth suddenly heard herself barking those commands to her son, and she shook her head as she ambled onto the wide dirt path. Why was she angry? No, it wasn't anger that was flushing into her face. It was anxiety that, for an entire decade, she was misled. Elizabeth hadn't anticipated that emotion. Resolve, excitement, but not anxiety. She didn't doubt it. Thousands of days, millions of seconds, the swelling feeling during the holidays, and she had never thought… Had never pondered the fact that he would not come. She assured herself and closed her eyes, thinking back to their one blessed day together when they had promised to believe that the curse would be broken and that their martial felicity would resume. She crossed her arms as William trotted around her, a smile plastered across his face.

"Aren't you coming?" he asked, little and sweet.

"Of course," Elizabeth said with a pursed grin, and she followed the boy down the path, dust swirling at her feet and drifting up her brown skirt that flapped tranquilly in the breeze. She had made a point of not wearing many layers… It would be easier access later, especially for her own and Will's pleasure.

"Will we wait on the beach?" William asked.

Elizabeth shook her head, and the pair meandered away from Shipwreck Cove's vibrant, grating city and after flipping her skirt up to her knees, the woman cautiously scaled the jagged boulders leading to the beach. She offered her hand to the lad, and he eagerly took it as he scrambled to his mother's side. The two strolled hand in hand for a time along the gritty shore, until William finally released Elizabeth's clammy palm and trotted to the water's edge, his brown eyes squinting, looking for his father in the distance.

"Sunset, my love. No sooner or later," she said, but the boy didn't bother to glance over his shoulder. He walked closer toward the water, his eyes bulging as the white caps of the whirling waves lunged toward him. Elizabeth crept up on her son, pulling him back by the waist when the wave crashed, and they both giggled, one for the surprise and the other for the reaction. Elizabeth kissed her son's head and then pointed to the towering grass cliffs. "Up there," she said, and she strode toward the bottom.

Elizabeth clasped the corners of her skirt, and William skipped around the woman and spun for a moment in the short grasses as the earth was swathed in an eerie green sunlight. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and murmured, "Do you remember the song Jack and I taught you?"

"Of course I do. How could I forget?" he said with a keen grin.

The lady began to hum the tune, avoiding the clumps of deep muck and stepping around several flowing ferns that splayed across the mead. She paused as she looked to the distant sea and the gigantic cliff they now stood on, and then she opened her mouth wide and crooned softly:

_We're beggars and blighters ad ne-er do-well cads, _

_Drink up me hearties yo-ho, _

_Aye, but we're loved by our mummies and dads, _

_Drink up me hearties yo-ho,_

_Yo-ho, yo-ho a pirate's life for me._

Elizabeth's voice dropped off, but William picked it right back up, trotting past his mother and singing a little louder, obviously hoping it would tempt his father to appear a little earlier.

_Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate's life for me, _

_We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot, _

_Drink up me hearties, yo-ho. _

She thought of her darling husband and his impending arrival. She imagined his black leather boots making deep, heavy prints in the sand, with his glinting sword at his side and his warm smile wrapping her into the night. It was a pleasant image. A blissful, joyous picture she had yearned and dreamed of for ten years. She had only managed a few trips to that strange world of deceased souls and unsettled matters. Once, for her son's birth and the second, three years later because of Captain Jack Sparrow's strange offer. She hadn't questioned it then, and she refused to question it now. Elizabeth continued to climb a little higher as William halted, his voice still floating on the wind.

_We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot, _

_Drink up me 'earties, yo ho,_

Elizabeth planted her dainty feet beside her son, and the last phrase that was emitted was soft and carefree, but it came slow and drawled into the seconds and drifted toward the sunset. She stared into the flaring sun that was flashing across the ocean, painting its curse, its blessing, and its time.

_Yo-ho Yo-ho a pirate's life for me…_

She glanced to her son, who gave her a wary look. He felt her nerves and now, once again, they vibrated along her spine and entered her mind. Would he return… forever?

Yes, she had told him to come back ten years ago.

And he would come. She knew it...

Elizabeth smiled at William, her lips still pressed together, and she outstretched her flapping sleeve, wrapped her hand around William's far shoulder, and pulled him close to her side, adoring his warmth. This was their moment. Her mouth opened slightly, revealing her gleaming, slightly crooked teeth, and her eyes glimmered with tentativeness.

The ball of fire was descending.

Faster now. Sliding into the black abyss that she once longed for.

Her fingers drummed against her son's cotton jacket and then rubbed his thin arm. Don't worry, her gesture meant to say.

It was gone now with a single motion.

And a fiery mass of emerald green light rocketed into the once-horizon and swelled and broadened, making the illumination reflect off of Elizabeth and William's faces. She smiled broadly, subconsciously squeezing the lad's little shoulder, and William looked to her expression, mirroring her excitement. This was all she ever wanted. They would be together, forever, and her sonw ould finally have a present father.

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Will embraced his parent's arm in passing and smiled, his white blouse fluttering in the sails' breeze as the _Flying Dutchman_, its revolting algae vanished and its mood as high as its Captain's, coasted out from the green flash and into the land of the living, the land of the loved. He nodded to Bill as Shipwreck Cove's various structures came into focus, its sandy beaches sparkling in the dropping evening.

"Ten years at sea," Bootstrap murmured.

"An eternity ashore," Will said in an archaic fashion as he released his father's muscular arm and stepped onto the railing. He gripped the braided rope rigging, tilting toward the eclipsing sunset and holding his breath, and his brown locks flickered in the breeze as the silhouette of his lavish bride and loving child came into view. His lips did not part as he smiled toward the beloved pair, and he could admire his love, his Elizabeth, even from afar.

Every aching moment was locked into the deepest corners of his mind and every soul that had whispered their own tales of lost love echoed vibrantly as he valued this mere time. This mere time they had to wait. It was long during it, but now it was fast, it was faster than a single minute, and it was more meaningful than a first kiss or a final adieu. His mighty vessel was gaining on the pair, and he could now see their arching eyebrows and blessed features, so beautiful and poignant and loving. He was home. And as the promise of the future glittered in his Elizabeth's eyes, the muscles in his chest began to thrust, and the vacant spot among his bones was filled, and for the first time, he felt as if he were really breathing, as if he were alive again… And he knew he could keep that promise. They could return to the way they were meant to be. To what they deserved. To what they yearned and longed and desired for from the first grazing of their lips. He felt absorbed in a certain bliss, and as his feet brushed against the gritty shore, darkening as the light disappeared, he whispered her name, watching the idyllic tears dribble down her cheeks.

"Elizabeth…"

"You came back," she said, taking his hands in her own and wrapping the other around him. "You came back."


End file.
